


The Rise of the Phoenix

by Deearesquard



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Fantasy, Female Protagonist, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1902303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deearesquard/pseuds/Deearesquard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The previous Age has ended, the world has stopped and the days have become years. But none of that concerns Dia. She wants only to help her brother Daerus, who has become embroiled in Imperial politics. She does not even realize that she and her twin are the instruments of Prophesy. Dia's education in the faith of her people will be a journey, filled with spiritual pitfalls and physical dangers, through anguish and doubt and despair to the dawn of a new Age, for she is destined to bear witness to the Rise of the Phoenix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lady Dia of Shae reined in her sweating horse at the top of a long rise, halting her small entourage to allow their mounts a few moments of rest. She looked around with eyes narrowed against the glare of the relentless sun, still only a reddish golden ball low on the eastern horizon. Now that the Great Dark had receded for the year, the world would gradually change from a frigid wasteland to a bright and brutal inferno. Already, the air was very warm and a slightly damp breeze blew steadily out of the north, gently rustling the budding grass under the horses' hooves. HighSun was still some months away, but Dia would be glad to reach her destination and the respite it offered.

The valiant animals that had carried them for mile after weary mile were also beginning to give way to the cumulative stresses of endless heat and light. Dia slapped her stallion's neck affectionately. "You shall have the coolest and most ill-lit stall I can find for you presently, old friend," she murmured to him gently, adding with a smile, "and so shall I."

Dia had graciously declined when her father had suggested to her that she might like to accompany her brother, Daerus, to Ormaerand to make their courtesy to the Emperor. She had said very simply that she did not think life at court would suit her. Since her father was inclined to agree, he had let the matter rest, but they both knew that eventually she would have to take herself off to court, whether she would or no. Dia had a duty to perform as a child of Shae. It had become the custom for the children of the Great Houses to present themselves to His Imperial Majesty upon attaining their maturity. Privately, Lord Loraed had little use for Emperor Kaerkas but it would not do to offend him.   The Emperor's likely response to the insult implied by a failure to perform that duty would be both decisive and excessive.  

Of course, nothing would have persuaded the Grand Duke and Duchess to part with their only daughter during the Season of the Great Dark, when the world was plunged into half a year of darkness and the snow piled as high as the second floor windows of Shae Manor. But, now that another year had dawned, the snow had melted, the air had warmed, and his Grace had no excuse to offer should the Emperor take it into his head to wonder what had become of Lord Daerus' twin sister.

Lord Loraed had reached the stage of beginning to consider and discard various ultimatums for the most likely means of getting the girl out of the house. Thus it was that, when Dia had entered the dining hall of her ancestral home a fortnight since, and surprised her sire with the news that she intended to join her brother at court at last, his relief was so great that he did not even pause to wonder what had prompted this sudden capitulation. Nor did he waste his time arguing with her about her proposed style of dress. She set off, adorned in light leggings, with a loose-fitting tunic rather than a decent overdress -- and of linen, rather than silk or even satin, Dia's mother had thought despairingly -- such as she often wore about the estate. His grace, in spite of some inevitable misgivings, was too well pleased that he would not be obliged to order her to Ormaerand to balk at piddling things like her wardrobe. So, he had waved his only daughter on her way, charging her with graceful messages of his duty to the Emperor, and her grace the Duchess with loving ones of her pride in the Grand Duke's heir.

"At least she has covered her head," said her Grace, adding with a shake of her head and a regretful sigh, "She looks like the veriest peasant."

"I expect she knows that very well, my dear," was the Duke's gruff reply. "No doubt she finds it amusing."

His Grace could not have known, of course, that her brother was responsible for Dia's abrupt decision. She had awakened very suddenly from a sound sleep the day before her departure, with the sense of his familiar presence in her mind. _Awake at last, are you?_ Daerus had said to her. _You are still a mighty sound sleeper, my girl. It is to be hoped that you do not snore, as well._

They had been able to do this for as long as she remembered. Being twins, they had been closer perhaps that most siblings, but their many schemes and bouts of mischief were often aided by the Talent they shared. It had certainly kept them quiescent on many occasions when they might, they felt, have otherwise died of boredom.

When they had been ten years old, Phoebus, the priest of the Phoenix who served her father's estate, had informed their father that these twin children of Shae were possessed of the Talents of the TimeKeepers. Lord Loraed was somewhat alarmed by this revelation, but Phoebus had serenely informed his Grace that there was naught to fear.

"Why?" Lord Loraed had asked suspiciously.

"Because the priesthood of the Phoenix is a passel of withered, pious fools, paying homage to a dead religion," Phoebus had replied with the unearthly calm that was habitual to him. "Is that not the common opinion, your Grace? Of all the Great Houses, only Shae retains its hereditary ties to the TimeKeepers." He had smiled faintly, then. "I do not suggest that either your heir or his sister enter the priesthood, your Grace. That is not needful. Indeed, there have been no new TimeKeepers since the death of the last age, and there will be none for a hundred generations or more, if need be, until once more a Phoenix rises from the ashes of Chaos to guide us to peace and order."

Lord Loraed, who had been bred to regard the TimeKeepers with deep respect but disliked being lectured as much as the next fellow, sighed. "In that case, good Phoebus, one wonders why you bring the matter to my attention?" he ventured.

"It were best, I think, to give them some training, if we are to prevent them from becoming nuisances to themselves, each other and everyone around them," Phoebus had replied with uncharacteristic bluntness.

"They already are," his Grace muttered feelingly.

Phoebus had actually chuckled. In anyone else, Lord Loraed would have called the priest's glance sly. "All the more reason to begin their instruction as early as may be convenient, my lord -- with your permission, of course," was all he said.

Lord Loraed having no further objection to make, Daerus and Dia were taught many of the Secret Ways of the TimeKeepers. They were strictly enjoined to reserve their talents for those circumstances when such abilities were truly needed, lest they rouse the mistrust of their fellows -- a caution that the feisty twins heeded scrupulously, for they knew that the priesthood had fallen into disrepute. That did not, however, keep the them from maintaining their close mental contact, even when Lord Daerus left the Shae estate to attend the Emperor's court.

_Well, brother?_ she had replied.

_Never better, sister,_ he had said.

_So. You wake me from a sound sleep simply for the pleasure of my conversation?_

_And still she is a shrew when she wakes. Really, my dear, you should try to do something about that. Only think of your poor, as-yet-unknown husband ..._

_Daerus!!_

His chuckle echoed in her mind. _Make ready to travel, my dear,_ he said. _You are needed in the palace._

_The matter is urgent?_

_Why else would I wake you at this hour?_ he asked, managing to sound injured. Then, laughing again, his presence faded. Trust Daerus to tell her nothing more than that. Still, Dia was not fooled by his lighthearted manner. She knew from that brief contact that something momentous was afoot and she did trust him -- enough that she had set forth almost immediately to join him at court.

As tired as she was, it was difficult for Dia to pause even long enough for her horse to catch his breath now that the end of her journey was in sight. She was in no particular hurry to attend the Emperor's court but she was eager to get inside the thick palace walls and away from the unremitting sunlight. Wistfully, she recalled the last age, ended these two years, when the world had not stood still, when day had followed night in hours instead of months, and the world had been fair and friendly under the gentle hand of Ageless Phoenix.

That first HighSun had been most difficult, filled with fear and famine and madness. Now, the people seemed to be adjusting and seemed perfectly resigned to blizzards, floods, droughts, scarce food supplies and only about four months of the year when it was neither too hot nor too cold to accomplish anything. There was even a sort of brooding gloom that abode among them, as if the Great Dark continued to stalk the land and its people even after it had receded. She had first noticed it when she had left the Grand Duchy of Shae and began to ride through neighboring Ormaer, and she had wondered if the capital and its denizens trailed those same shadows about like worn cloaks. If there was such a thing as a mood of the land, it seemed as if the mood had become one of dark anticipation; yet, no one else seemed affected, as was Dia, by this sense of some great beast about to pounce.

Shaking off such somber reflections, she nudged her tired horse into a canter, for she had spied a lone horseman emerging from unguarded gates of the capital. _How kind of you to ride out to meet me, dearest,_ she sent the thought with a humorous inflection.

_As well for you that I do,_ he replied, surprising her with his grumbling. _Garbed as you are, you would likely suffer any number of insults from his Imperial Majesty's servants._

_Why, Daerus, one might think you were ashamed of the odd appearance your sister presents,_ she said in wholly feigned astonishment.

_I suppose I should have known better than to imagine that **you** would give the matter a thought,_ he replied, sounding so bitter that she thought she must have misunderstood him.

After a moment's pause, she sent him a gently reproachful thought. _I do beg your pardon, dearest, but you **would** have me join you here._

There was an even longer pause. Then her brother said, _Indeed, my dear, I do not mean to snap at you so. In truth, I would not have inflicted the Emperor's court upon you at any time were it not for the fact that I am desperate._

_And that puts me in my place,_ she said, laughter rocking her "voice". _I might have known this was not a mere case of my brother pining for my company._

_Oh, surely, you **must** have known better than that!_ he instantly replied in an attempt at his usual bantering manner.

Dia grinned at him as she crossed the intervening space between them, but she was both baffled and concerned. Her normally lighthearted brother was haggard and there was a haunted look in his eyes that she had never seen before. Even more alarming, their mind-link, which should have grown stronger with physical proximity, had thinned and dimmed as she rode closer to him. She was not completely closed off from him but she was being held at a distance, something Daerus had never done to her before.

"What ails you, Daerus?" she asked as soon as she was within hailing distance. "You look dreadful."

"Too much revelry, no doubt," he tossed off negligently, regarding her intently and searchingly.

"You do not look as if you have been enjoying it, my love," Dia said with a wry half-grin.

As she returned his gaze, she found herself moving rapidly from concern to alarm. There was a darkness about her brother that filled her with foreboding. She had been wondering if the city of Ormaerand bore the same gloom as the countryside, and could not imagine how Daerus could stand being there. Now, it seemed she had her answer. Would she, too, grow dark and tired and empty if she remained in this place for very long? At that moment, it seemed that her brother was almost a stranger.

"Now, for the love of Chaos, Dia, don't nag at me," he snapped irritably.

Dia said nothing. This was not her brother, this peevish, dissipated-looking fellow. Something was very wrong here. "I beg your pardon," she said at last, and a bit stiffly.

He did not seem to notice. "Yes, well, never mind that. I will have to present you to his Imperial Majesty as soon after we arrive as may be and, Dia, as you love me, let me have none of your odd ways. It is of the greatest importance that the Emperor be pleased with you."

She digested that for a moment in silence. "I suppose I should be gratified that my reputation precedes me," she said lightly. When Daerus said nothing, only tossing her a disgusted look, she exclaimed, "Daerus, **_what_** is the matter with you?!"

"Nothing!" he almost shouted at her. "Do as you will! No doubt it matters not at all to you how you may shame the House of Shae. I must have been mad to imagine I could look to you for aid in this pass."

"Mad, indeed, my dear, to imagine you could look to me for aid when you will not even divulge what the problem is," she told him, restored to calm. "Our mother sends you her dearest love, by the bye. I must hope that you will not return to Shae until you have recovered your misplaced manners, for I fear she will be sadly grieved." Daerus did not respond. "Come, twin, surely you did not inveigle me into making this tedious and uncomfortable journey for the sole purpose of picking a fight with me. Fire and ashes, you could have done that from the comfort of your chair and saved me the trip!"

"Indeed, sister, I have no wish to quarrel with you," he muttered, his irritation disappearing in an instant, to be replaced by that vague desperation she had seen before.

Dia sighed, finding it surprisingly difficult to converse with her brother for the first time in her life. Really, she ought to be able to talk to Daerus even if she did not have access to their habitual mind-link. "It is also to be hoped that, when you locate your manners you will also find your sense of humor. No doubt you packed them both away in your trunk, finding that you would need neither while you were at court."

A reluctant chuckle reassured her. Whatever was amiss, Daerus was still Daerus. She supposed some misfortune had befallen just before he'd set out to meet her, for he had certainly seemed his usual happy-go-lucky self when he had called her here. Dia was sure he would tell her all when he had recovered his composure. In the meantime, they had passed through the gates of Ormaerand and Dia looked about her with interest.

The capital city was neither a large city nor an attractive one. She had often thought as she rode north that House Ormaer had some obscure affection for ugliness, but she'd expected better of the Emperor's home. The houses were plain and unadorned, built closely together of a dark grey stone with slate roofs. None of the homes or businesses was very large, for the Great Houses of the empire preferred their own lands to residing in close proximity to court. That was only practical; Dia knew, for example, that it would have been most difficult for Lord Loraed to administer to the needs of Shae from the confines of this city.

Dia could only be thankful for that expediency. She had thought she was used to seeing people trailing the darkness about like a forgotten garment but the aura was much worse in the streets of the capital. Back in the Grand Duchy of Shae, her own people took advantage of this time of relative comfort to conduct business, repair their homes and farms after the ravages of the Great Dark and prepare for the exigencies of HighSun. Here, all was noise and confusion as the townsmen reeled about in what seemed to her to be an endless, desperate gala of gambling, drinking and wenching, with the occasional brawl erupting for a change of pace, and none of it appearing to afford the participants much pleasure. Embarrassed, she averted her eyes from a pair of townsmen enthusiastically coupling before an abandoned tanner's stall. There were even a few bodies sprawled in corners and alleys, grey and stiff in death and contributing a rancid, nauseating stench to the bright darkness.

_Perhaps,_ she thought, _I have been too much shielded from such things._ Curious, she cast a sidelong glance at her brother. The aura did not seem to be affecting him any more than the wild gallivanting of the people, and he rode on oblivious. _Are the denizens of the capital always like this? Is he used to this dreadful darkness or has he even noticed it?_ she wondered. It certainly looked ominous but it _felt_ much worse.

"I suppose I have grown accustomed to it," Daerus answered her unspoken thought with a shrug. Dia took some comfort in this proof that their mind-link might be seriously weakened but it was still there. "It does not disturb me, in any event."

"I envy you that insensitivity, brother," she told him. "If the honor of Shae were not resting upon my shoulders, I confess, I would turn tail and run from this place as fast as poor Coer could carry me. Tell me, is the palace any better?"

Someone else's eyes glinted at her from her brother's familiar face. "I will leave you to judge that for yourself," he said, pulling his mount to a stop. "We have arrived."

As soon as she looked at the palace, she had her answer. It was much worse. Dia had not even noticed it as they approached, so occupied with her fascinated horror at the chaos in the streets as she had been. Now, she looked upon her Emperor's palace and her sense of foreboding expanded another notch. _Great Phoenix_ , she thought, _I cannot even see it!_ Indeed, the place appeared to her less as the massively imposing structure that it was than as a gaping, hungry black maw. She felt a profound reluctance to enter the building, for surely such a place would suck her mind and soul out of her body so that it would seem as if she had never been.

Dia had a notion she now knew what ailed Daerus. Convulsively, she shivered.

_"Really, my dear, such fanciful notions as you have!"_ Daerus said to her mockingly. _"When did you become such a romantic? Your reputation will be sadly tarnished if this becomes known at Shae."_

Dia grinned, burying her misgivings deep in her mind. _"'Tis a wonder if my brains are not baked out of my skull. No doubt an hour or two in the coolness of the palace will restore me to my perfectly ordinary self,"_ was her retort.

Pausing only long enough to give her servants instructions on the care and disposition of her horses, Dia joined her brother at the entrance. He was talking to a wizened little man with elaborately coifed curls and an unpleasantly knowing leer. "Really, Lord Daerus, you should know not to bring your whores into the palace by way of the front door!"

Dia stiffened. _I **did** warn you, Dia,_ her brother reminded her gently.

Aloud, he remarked, "One wonders how you can have become the Emperor's chamberlain, Oshaed. It cannot have been because of your keen mind or your exquisite manners." He paused, while the little man drew himself up, offended. "This is my sister, my lord fleawit. See to it that she is properly housed and that her quarters are close to mine."

Oshaed's leer became more pronounced as he raked Dia with his glance. "Are you a protective brother, my lord? I would never have thought it. That will certainly present his Imperial Majesty's guests with a bit of a challenge."

Dia, who had had almost as much of this style of conversation as she cared to tolerate, lifted her chin and fixed this offensive lord with the stare she usually reserved for impudent maidservants and overly-familiar guardsmen. How dared this shriveled little creature so address a daughter of Shae! As Oshaed returned her gaze, the impudence slowly drained from his expression, to be replaced with a look of sullen chagrin and a flush.

"Never mind exercising what passes for you wit, sir. Just see to my sister's quarters," Daerus retorted, smiling grimly as he observed that silent exchange. Gesturing, he added, "We will wait in that antechamber."

Feeling as if she had just stepped into a cesspool, Dia allowed her brother to guide her past the chamberlain and his knowing leer. She asked mildly, "Is the Emperor very fond of his chamberlain?"

"Nobody is fond of his chamberlain," Daerus replied shortly.

"Then, you do not think his Imperial Majesty would be terribly upset if my lord was found some morning with his throat slit?"

Daerus smiled faintly. "Very likely not."

Dia nodded with a satisfied smile. "That is good to know," she said as she entered the chamber through the door her brother held open. Once inside, she fixed him with a keen, worried glance and said without preamble, "Very well, Daerus, tell me of this urgent matter that required my instant presence in this elegant brothel."

"Determined to get yourself a lodging in His Majesty's dungeon, my dear?" he ask mildly. "That is hardly a respectful way to refer to the imperial abode."

"Never mind my manners, my dear," she replied sweetly. "You know I have none. What's afoot?"

Daerus took a turn about the room as, to Dia's further dismay, their mental link grew still weaker. The silence between them continued as the young man paced restlessly. Dia waited.

Finally, he said, not looking at her, "Sister, I would be wed."

Involved as she had been in imagining all sorts of potential disasters that might have been about to befall him -- an imminent duel, a lady-in-waiting with child by him, the prospect of imperial displeasure due to some indiscretion -- these tidings made her laugh aloud. "Well, really, Daerus! It is as well that your future bride is not here to listen to your dismal way of bearing such glad news! The prospect of being a husband would appear to afford you little pleasure."

Daerus tried to smile at her teasing but it was a wan effort. "Do I sound so dreary? I must take care!" he replied.

"Why?" she asked, her grin fading. "Is this betrothal not of your seeking?"

"Of course it is! Really, Dia, why must you forever be looking for ogres and curses?"

"Why, indeed? It surely could not be because you summon me to the palace in such a bang and then deliver yourself of this news as if you were announcing that you were bound for the headsman's block!" He did not reply and Dia went on to ask, "Who is she?"

"Princess Kera," he replied shortly.

"The Emperor's daughter? Your aim is high, my love," she said. "Is the lady agreeable?"

"She does not dislike my suit but will heed the decision of the Emperor."

"A dutiful young lady," she remarked and then paused, waiting. When her brother said nothing, she exclaimed, "Fire and ashes, Daerus, but it is difficult to get this tale from you! What has the Emperor to say? Shall I wish you happy?"

"The Emperor would have me present my sister before he makes his decision," Daerus told her, looking at her at last. Again, the thought struck her that it was not Daerus who gazed at her so speculatively, but someone she had never met.

"The Emperor wishes to make my acquaintance? How very odd. I would have thought he would wish to meet Lord Loraed and his lady. What have I to say to this matter?" she asked guilelessly, thinking but not saying that she had likely arrived at the crux of the matter.

"Now, how should I know? Mayhap he has heard tales of Lady Dia of Shae and wishes for an excuse to withhold his permission."

She was silent for a moment, trying mightily to bring herself to believe what he was telling her and failing utterly. "Naturally, you would have no way of learning his motives," she uttered sardonically. "You did not touch his thoughts?"

"Would I so use my emperor?"

"Why not? It would not harm him and your motives are not treasonous. Besides, he would never know a thing about it." He opened his mouth to argue with her but she did not give him the chance. There was more in the wind than Daerus seemed willing to divulge and Dia suspected it involved a favor he was reluctant to ask. "Well, never mind. I expect I will learn for myself whatever the fell tidings may be."

"You are very suspicious, are you not?" he asked her, his voice silky.

"Have I not reason to be suspicious?" Once again, she had that sense that she spoke to someone she did not know. On an impulse, she deliberately sought to strengthen the mental link that had dwindled to a nadir.

He flinched away from her mental touch, saying, "None of that, my dear."

She stared at him, hurt and not bothering to hide it. "You have never objected before."

Daerus returned her glance, clearly hesitating and searching for something to say. He was rescued by the arrival of a liveried servant, who asked my lady to please come with him so that he could show her to her rooms. Indeed, his obvious relief at being spared the need to fabricate some further explanation that would satisfy her was even more hurtful than his rejection of her mind-touch.

So, Dia unhesitatingly allowed the conversation to come to a close, uncomfortable with her brother for the first time in her life. He dutifully accompanied her to her door, saying before he left her, "We dine shortly. My rooms are three doors further down this hall. Join me there when you have rested and changed."

"What? You mean I cannot sit down to endmeal with the Emperor as I am?" she asked in mock astonishment.

"Dia!"

She chuckled and entered her apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing House Aerandos -- Lord Saeros, Lady Tamia and their son Caelon. Lord Saeros skillfully fends off imperial schemes. Caelon meets Dia.

Colonel Lord Caelon Aerandos stalked down the hall of the imperial palace on his way to his mother's apartments. His habit of movement, more crisp and decisive than was the norm among the nobility, had already attracted the fascinated attention of many members of court. They wondered why he squandered such energy doing nothing more urgent than walking, while disdaining those pastimes that they considered much more diverting and thus worth the effort. He seemed quite humorless to them; he barely drank more than a cup of wine with his endmeal; he had not taken a lady to his bed since he had arrived at court some time ago. Yet, even as they tried to shrug him off as a dull fellow, they secretly drank in his aura of purposefulness as a starving man might wistfully breathe the perfume of a well-cooked meal, seeing in it a devotion to something more sustaining than pleasures of the flesh.

Caelon was well aware of, and grimly amused by, the fascinated horror with which the Emperor's courtiers beheld him. For his part, on a good day, he eyed them with barely veiled contempt. Was this the much-vaunted imperial court, that was said to impart some sort of worldly wisdom upon the scions of noble houses? It seemed to him that they could learn as much in the back alleys of any town large enough to boast a tavern and a brothel. Surely, it was a very wise man who had said that idle hands bred feeble minds.

On a bad day, his lordship was not so generous and today was turning out to be a very bad day. Caelon was no more prudish than the next fellow but he found himself thinking, as he strode down the hall, that if he had to spend much more time among the drunken sots and unrepentant whores of His Imperial Majesty's court, he was likely to do something desperate. And, to make matters worse, when he wasn't fending off the advances of another energetic gentlewoman or indulging his male peers in wine-scented conversation, he was listening to addle-brained proposals from the madman on the throne.

With a perfunctory knock, Caelon opened the door to his mother's sitting room and entered without ceremony. She looked up from her needlework and smiled at him. "Really, Caelon, whatever is the matter? You are looking quite ferocious. I am sure the entire court must find you terrifying!"

His scowl softened into the quizzical smile that was more habitual to him. "I had rather hoped for that effect, Mama, but alas! it is not so," he told her.

Lady Tamia's eyes returned to her embroidery. "If there is one good thing to be said about a half year of daylight, it is that there is plenty of light in which to set one's stitches," she remarked. "'Tis a good thing your father and I did not bring you here with the notion of providing you with entertainment, my dear. I would have been sadly cast down by your stubborn refusal to enjoy yourself!"

At that, Caelon burst into laughter. "Oh, in that case, I would have made some effort, for if you were to go into a decline over the business, I would never hear the end of it! Come, Mama, admit that if I did find something with which to occupy myself among these wretches, you would be wholly mortified."

"Oh, how can you say so?"

"Easily," he replied instantly, a loving smile on his face that would have astonished much of the court. "So, tell me, which would you prefer? Shall I spend my time with my noble peers, drinking myself into a stupor regularly? Or shall I abide with the ladies instead, to see if my stamina is up to par?" Caelon shook his head, adding as his smile soured, "I had rather seek out the stable hands. At least they spend some of their time usefully."

Her Grace chuckled. "You would not think so to hear what our own Thaerd has to say of them!" she told her son, youthful blue eyes twinkling. "To hear him tell of it, the only reason to keep any of them about the place is because His Majesty's guests are so little addicted to _outdoor_ exercise that the general ineptness in the stables goes unremarked."

"As if anyone would ride out in this heat! Thaerd is quite absurd, you know."

"No, he just does not approve of _anything_ this far south. I am sure, if we asked him, he would say that we would still have a Phoenix if only the Temple of Fires had been built in Aerandos. Besides," Lady Tamia continued as Caelon grinned, "he is a soldier, my dear, and has no taste for the amusements of the imperial guests."

"I, too, am a soldier, ma'am, and Thaerd is a very sensible fellow," Caelon contradicted himself promptly.

"No matter how absurd he might be!" her Grace retorted with a delightful gurgle of laughter. "Now, my dear, what did the Emperor say that has put you in such a temper? I felt quite certain, from his manner since we arrived, that he had some signal honor in mind for House Aerandos."

That question effectively put a period to Caelon's amusement. "Oh, he does indeed," he replied grimly. "He would have my father serving on the General Staff of the Imperial Army here in the capital."

"And what is there in that to put you out, Caelon?" asked her Grace in some surprise.

"Why, nothing, ma'am," Caelon said promptly. "Indeed, the Emperor needs to do _something_ about the sorry state of the Imperial Army, if the imperial guard here in the palace is considered the best of them. This latest evidence of His Majesty's military genius is wonderful. He would have us withdraw our own troops from the northern frontier to take up positions closer to the imperial person, and replace them with regiments from his own sorry forces."

Lady Tamia frowned thoughtfully and charmingly. "I would not offend His Majesty for the world, but I do not think his troops would be able to hold the north against the Throk," she said hesitantly.

"They would be about as effective as those kittens you keep about the estate in such abundance," Caelon said in disgust.

"Nonsense, boy," said another voice from the door. "The kittens at least have claws."

Caelon turned quickly as Lord Saeros stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He advanced into the room to greet his lady, placing an affectionate hand on Caelon's shoulder in passing. "Your departure was somewhat precipitous, my boy," he noted to his heir as he bowed over Lady Tamia's hand.

"Why, how is this, sir?" Caelon replied, feigning astonishment. "We had been dismissed. Surely I could not have been mistaken?"

"Did I not bring you here in your capacity as my heir?" Lord Saeros turned now and bent a stern glance upon his son. "Do you imagine that your instruction at the hands of my generals and my stewards is all you will require?"

"Well, if there is more that I will require, I beg you will not ask me to learn it _here_ ," Caelon said, making no effort to mask his contempt.

Lord Saeros eyed his son sardonically. "Aye, the baby lord thinks to assume the command of the premier fighting force in the empire without need of learning how best to address imperial machinations! Think you that you can display your contempt for the imperial court so plainly when you stand in my shoes? The Emperor is still my liege, and will be yours; you can no more avoid him than you can avoid my lady's cats."

At that, both Lady Tamia and Caelon laughed. "Now, really," the lady said, "why must the pair of you harp so upon the poor pussies? They do earn their keep, you must confess. Cook tells me there has not been above five mice in the kitchens in all the years since I was married!"

"I knew you must have been well dowered, Mama," Caelon said, very much impressed, "but, indeed, I had no notion of the riches you commanded."

Lord Saeros did not smile at this banter between his wife and his heir. "A moment of your attention, Caelon!" he said, throwing back his shoulders and assuming what Caelon undutifully called "commander stance".

And Caelon responded in kind as was expected. He straightened to attention, saying, "Sir?"

"You are to attend me at _all_ of my meetings while we are here in the palace. That means informal meetings as well as formal ones. It is for that reason that I brought you here to begin with."

"As you will, sir," Caelon said, bowing. Then, as he moved to the door, he added with a grin, "And I had thought my purpose at court was to acquire the acquaintance and society of my peers. Never was I more disappointed!"

"Off with you, Impudence!" said his father, trying to scowl around the smile that was blossoming on his face.

Caelon quit the room in a much better frame of mind than he had entered it. He strode down the hall, trying to decide which of the numerous saloons and sitting rooms in the palace was most likely to be empty. He did not particularly want to remain closeted in his room, but neither did he want to make himself too accessible to his empty-headed peers by arriving for endmeal any sooner than was absolutely necessary. The closest thing in the palace to an exercise gymnasium was the imperial steam rooms, which Caelon had avoided since he had learned, early in his stay, that the courtiers were likely to use the rooms for purposes for which they were not originally designed. He would have given a great deal for the sort of equestrian exercise arena that Lord Saeros had constructed at Aerandos, to be used for training cavalry units in inclement weather. In truth, Caelon was not used to having a great deal of unoccupied time on his hands; he was restless and felt sure he was growing soft with so much enforced idleness.

He wondered what could have occurred after he had excused himself to his father that had roused that gentleman's ire. Caelon doubted it was simply a matter of wanting him to observe the smooth technique which his Grace used to divert imperial importunities. He'd had plenty of opportunity to observe _that_ during that thrice-blighted conference, so he had! A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps there was something to be said for acquiring a touch of court polish.

The imperial summons had come to Aerandos at a bad time, for his Grace had been busy about his estate, repairing flood damage and preparing for the long dry spell that had just begun. Still, the Grand Duke of Aerandos knew his duty to the Emperor better than most, occupied as he was with the defense of the empire, so he had placed his well trained steward in charge of the repairs and brought his family south.

But his Imperial Majesty, once the Grand Duke Saeros and his family were ensconced in the palace, seemed in no hurry to get to the matter that had inspired him to summon them. Instead, they had been treated to interminable banquets and insipid soirees, the Emperor apparently determined to demonstrate to House Aerandos the endless congeniality of his court. His parents had been heartily bored by what His Imperial Majesty had referred to as "picking up the neglected threads of their acquaintance", although they tactfully refrained from pointing out that none of the minor nobility currently at court were known to them. Caelon had been passed around among the younger visitors to the palace like a platter of savories and soon grew every bit as bored.

So all three of them were pleased when Lord Saeros had been summoned to an imperial audience as they had been finishing a substantial midmeal. Caelon and his father had exchanged a single startled, hopeful glance before attacking the remaining wine in their glasses with what Lady Tamia had laughingly called unseemly haste. Neither of them had spoken of it, but father and son both hoped the summons meant that his Imperial Majesty was finally going to get on with it. Caelon, indulging optimism, thought that perhaps they might be on their way back to Aerandos before endmeal.

Lord Saeros and his heir, therefor, arrived in the conference room and greeted the Emperor with such affability that his Imperial Majesty seemed smugly gratified. Since the cordiality of father and son had nothing to do with their delight in the imperial court, and everything to do with relief at the notion that they might soon be done with it, Caelon reflected that it was as well that the Emperor could not read their thoughts as the TimeKeepers had been said to do. Politely, he bowed to General Kraetus and to the imperial heir, Prince Maermat.

"How may I serve you, my emperor?" Lord Saeros had asked, once the introductions were over and all the men were seated.

"The matter is simple, Saeros," the Emperor said, as if he felt sure his Grace would fall in with his ideas without protest. "I find the imperial troops in less than the desired state of combat readiness. You have perhaps noticed the same thing?"

His lingering relief had prompted a mood of hilarity in Caelon and only his father's stern glance had kept him from uttering a crack of laughter at this massive understatement. "Why, yes, your Majesty," Lord Saeros had agreed, "I did make note of a certain ... er ... "

"They're soft and lazy, your Grace," Kraetus had interjected with a grunt. "No need to wrap the thing up in clean linen. I have given the Emperor a thorough briefing on the condition of his army."

"Indeed," Kaerkas the Beast had said, frowning petulantly. "It will not do. Ormaeranda is the greatest empire in the history of the world, but the might of the empire will be judged in the end by the might of the imperial army." He had paused and Caelon felt sure he had caught himself on the brink of unwise speech. "We must improve the men, Saeros, and without delay."

"A wise choice, your Majesty," Lord Saeros had agreed politely.

An awkward pause had followed that courteous remark as everyone had waited for him to continue. Curious, Caelon glanced around the table. General Kraetus was scowling down at the fine grain of the hardwood table under his hands. Prince Maermat wore a faint smile and the imperial visage held nothing but polite interest. Yet, all three men betrayed a taut expectation in the set of their shoulders, in Maermat's narrowed eyes and the Emperor's fingers, which drummed absently and arhythmically on the table.

 _Now, what's afoot?_ wondered Caelon. It was quite obvious that his father had been expected to offer to see to the task of sprucing up the imperial army, and it was equally clear to everyone in the room that his Grace had missed his cue. Lord Saeros appeared to be the only one of them who was in command of his face _and_ body language; he seemed completely at his ease, his expression politely enquiring. Caelon carefully hid a smile; his Grace certainly knew how to bring conversation to an abrupt halt.

"Hmmph. Yes, well," said the Emperor, with an expression on his face that was very close to a pout. "The thing is that this task will require leadership, Saeros."

"Your Majesty has a very fine General Staff," Lord Saeros pointed out.

"Nonsense!" the Emperor stated. "How fine can they be if they have allowed the army to deteriorate in this fashion?" His Imperial Majesty seemed to have forgotten that a member of the General Staff sat at the table with them. The General's scowl grew blacker.

"The thing is, your Grace, that our generals here in the capital do not have that military tradition so long in their bloodlines as does House Aerandos," Prince Maermat took up the chant, his voice smooth and persuasive. "All the world knows that the soldiers of Aerandos are the finest to be had anywhere."

"Your Highness is very kind." Lord Saeros murmured the formula response, still apparently unwilling to help these three say what they seemed so reluctant to say.

"Kindness has nothing to say to the matter," the Emperor said firmly. Given his reputation, Caelon had no doubts about the sincerity of _that_ statement. "Your aid is needed, Saeros. I would appoint you to the General Staff as a special advisor and have you see to retraining the imperial army. Now, what say you?"

"You honor me, your Majesty," Lord Saeros said slowly, his face giving no hint of his opinion of this indication of imperial favor, "but I have duties to my people in the north that must be discharged, and I also must see to my own troops."

"That will be no problem at all," the Emperor said promptly, as if he had anticipated this caveat. "I will send the army to you at Aerandos, and your troops will come here in their stead."

That plan seemed so fraught with disaster, that Caelon remained silent only with the greatest difficulty. Of all the ridiculous notions ... !

"That would not be a very good idea, your Majesty," his father pointed out. "It would be imprudent to withdraw the best troops available from the border of the empire's only hostile neighbor."

"Great fires of Phoenix, Saeros, but you are insulting!" General Kraetus burst out with what, to Caelon, seemed a bizarre reversal of his originally proffered opinion of the imperial troops. "They may not measure up to the heights of soldierdom that _you_ set, but neither will they turn tail and run at the first sign of an engagement! Rest assured, your Grace, our men will fight."

"Of course, they will fight, General," Lord Saeros returned, his voice mild but his eyes glinting. "But will they _win_?"

"A home question," said the Emperor, clearly delighted. Caelon wondered if the man were deliberately needling his general or if he was simply an idiot. Much more of this, and Lord Saeros would need to guard himself most assiduously during the remainder of his stay at the palace.

Lord Saeros sat back, apparently pondering the matters at hand. "I do not think I should care to have the Throk as near neighbors," he remarked absently. "As it is, they are quite close enough." After a pause, during which the company awaited his pleasure, he smiled faintly and spoke again. "Your majesty, you have presented me with a nice dilemma. The easiest solution would be for me to acquire the ability to be in two places at once."

Prince Maermat chuckled, but his glance remained watchful.

"I will consider the matter," his Grace had declared. "There may yet be a way for me to both discharge my responsibilities to my people and serve the empire's needs."

Striding easily down the hall, Caelon considered the matter now. That his father's reaction at being offered a special commission by the Emperor was less than effusive did not seem to disturb a ruler known far and wide for his intolerance to opposition. Caelon found that interesting. He did not think that report had lied or exaggerated; there was that in Kaerkas' eyes that made one hesitate to cross him.

Lord Saeros, Caelon realized, had handled the situation with admirable skill. He had failed to instantly fall in the scheme and volunteered neither action nor information, yet he had managed to avoid placing the Emperor in a position in which an imperial ultimatum would have been justified. They were going to have to volunteer more information before they acquired his Grace's cooperation, much less his army, and that was just as well. The general's hostility was not difficult to fathom but Prince Maermat's calculating gaze suggested that there was more to this very plausible imperial request than met the eye.

All at once, Caelon realized that he was being watched and he cursed his inattention. Automatically, his steps slowed as his eyes darted around, trying to penetrate the shadows. The watcher was unfriendly, instinct told him; the level of malevolence he could feel from that silent observer caused him to wish, not for the first time, that the Emperor would allow his guests to be armed with more serious weapons than their fashionable daggers. This corridor, like the entire palace, was ill-lit and quiet. Waves of coldly brooding menace chilled him, inhuman in their intensity.

Inhuman? Caelon was not a fanciful sort but he had learned not to cast aside those random, instinctive impressions if he would save his own life. Surely, this corridor had not been _this_ dark a few moments ago? Those instincts, which had served him so well for so long, could sense that dark menace building, reaching toward a crescendo that could only mean his unseen watcher was working himself up to launch an attack. Caelon's nerves stretched taut as his body automatically prepared for battle, but his mind seethed with helpless frustration. How could he fight what he could not see? What _was_ it?

A door latch sounded and Caelon, poised for a fight despite the dimness that seemed to shroud his sight, whirled to his left with his knife in his hand.

"What ails you, my lord?" a sharp, feminine voice asked.

Suddenly, he could see again. Confused and angry, he looked accusingly into the face of a woman he had never seen before. "Perhaps I should ask you the same thing, my lady," he replied sardonically. "I had thought that a female of your obvious breeding would not stoop to spying about the corridors of the palace. Tell me, were you expecting your lover? No doubt it were better to make these little appointments for some time _after_ endmeal."

She glanced up at him with eyes the color of a stormy sky. "You are churlish, my lord," she said, her voice flat with hostility and her hands twitching, although she wore no daggers.

He _had_ been churlish, he knew. Manners and morals in the palace may be lax, but his hasty words were unforgivable. Still angry, he said, "Forgive me, my lady. I find I do not care to be watched and there is no need for you to trouble yourself with my movements. I have no secrets."

The lady seemed to have mastered her temper and now stared at him sardonically. "On that point, I must beg to differ, sir," she said. "No doubt you have a great many secrets, for I have no notion of what you may be talking about!"

"Do you mean to say that you were not watching as I came up this hall?" he asked her, suspiciously.

Caelon knew, as soon as he had asked her, that she could not have been that silent watcher. That aura of menace had been far too strong for her to successfully hide it now that they were face to face, and her present annoyance was a zephyr compared to the brooding hatred he had sensed. She did not even reply to his distrustful question, merely staring at him with her remarkably fine gray eyes. Those eyes held a peculiar expression, a combination of cynical amusement and the sort of wariness one usually employs when dealing with lunatics.

Aware that he had behaved in such a way as to completely justify her apparent impression that she had encountered a raving maniac, he bowed and suppressed an untimely fit of laughter. "I can see that I was very much mistaken and can only beg your pardon, my lady. You must think I learned my manners in the stables," he told her ruefully.

She fixed him with a stern eye and drew a deep breath. "I expect that any manners you might learn from the stable hands would be a vast improvement, sir," she told him. "Frankly, if the two gentlemen I have encountered since I arrived at the palace are a fair sample of Emperor's court, I had as lief return to my home without further delay."

This time he could not control the crack of laughter her words surprised from him. "How very unhandsome of you!" he said, grinning. "Come, my lady, I have owned my fault and apologized most properly. It is unkind in you to withhold your prompt forgiveness!"

She took another breath and open her mouth to speak, but what reply she might have made him he would never know. Suddenly, as she gazed at him, her eyes widened in astonishment and her irritation seemed to melt away. She seemed amazed by something only she could see and Caelon found himself wondering who she was and why she was looking at him so oddly. Finally, she seemed to recollect herself, for she released her pent up breath and, in some confusion, dropped a curtsey. "Of course, my lord," was all she said.

"Thank you," and Caelon bowed again, feeling rather irrationally as if he had been robbed of some very good sport. "No doubt you will be attending His Imperial Majesty's tedious endmeal, at which I expect we shall be formally presented to each other. There, I shall behave so irreproachably that I daresay you will be astonished and I shall be fully redeemed in your eyes." He reflected, as he made that extravagant promise, that once she had a taste of the rest of the imperial court, she would no doubt think him a model of rectitude.

He turned from her and continued down the hall, entertaining himself with speculations about her likely reaction to that particular treat in store -- or should he rather call it an ordeal? -- his unseen watcher momentarily forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dia is presented to the Emperor.

Dia watched the gentleman walk away from her down the dim corridor and wondered again who he might be. Everyone she had encountered since she had entered the capital city had been carrying that aura of darkness that chilled her to the marrow of her bones. She had even wondered if fatigue was clouding her sight. It was not until she had been within an inch of giving the impudent fellow a severe scolding that she had realized that he was different. Handsome, certainly, and as arrogant, but to her tired eyes he seemed a blazing beacon of light in an ocean of blackness.

Whatever was the matter with her? She did not for an instant think that she was sickening for anything and she knew that she had always had unusual perceptions and abilities. But nothing like this had ever happened before, where her eyes started playing tricks on her. She turned away from the young man and started toward her brother's rooms, sadly puzzled.

Very likely, none of it meant a thing. Not the peculiar things she was seeing. Not the very odd, bone-deep chill she had felt just before she had opened her chamber door. Not even her brother's bizarre moods and haggard appearance. She would drive herself insane if she spent too much time trying to solve puzzles that did not exist. But, she owned privately, unconvinced by her own arguments, she wished she had Phoebus by her.

Only Daerus knew how much she detested occasions such as the one she would be attending that night. Her mother, thinking to solace her once she no longer had her twin's companionship, and hoping that some local gentleman would catch her eye, had inflicted countless entertainments upon her after her brother had left. Much to her mother's dismay, Dia had gained nothing from these revels except a great deal of practice at hiding her distaste for them. _Poor Mama!_ she thought fondly as she paced the silent corridor. _How patiently she bore my ingratitude for her ridiculous scheming! I wonder if she would be pleased to know that those tedious evenings seem likely to do me some good now?_

She could not determine from Daerus' incoherent conversation what would be at risk during this endmeal, but she was determined not to fail him. Bearing in mind his injunctions, she had selected her raiment with some care and entered his room with a flourish. Her flowing gown was of an older design, in linen and crepe of a pale aqua, rather than the silken overdress and close-fitting leggings currently worn by young ladies of fashion. Its cut she thought both demure and becoming; dressed so very modestly, she felt certain to please her suddenly exacting sibling.

Daerus' first words instantly disabused her of that notion. "Great Temple fires, Dia! What do you mean by wearing such a grandmother's gown?" he asked, surveying her in some disgust.

Dia halted abruptly in the act of crossing his room, startled by this unexpected scolding. After staring at him for a moment, she sighed. "I had thought you were worried that I might be taken for a fast sort of female," she said in long-suffering accents. "At least, that is what you were complaining about earlier. No doubt that exquisitely polite Lord Oshaed has already given out his opinion of me. I but thought to counteract the gossip."

"The very thing you, of all people, would be worried about," Daerus told her sarcastically.

" _I_ was not worried about it. _You_ were. Remember?"

"I know of no reason why you cannot be ladylike and attractive at the same time."

"The Emperor is quite old enough to be my father, Daerus," said Dia wryly. "I am not trying to seduce him, so what matter if my gown is demure?"

"Do not expect me to swallow that tale, sister!" he replied, clearly distracted. "It seems you are determined to ruin all my chances ... "

"Oh, give over, Daerus!" she snapped, completely out of patience with his hysterics. "You are become tiresomely difficult to please all of a sudden! You speak to me in the most general of terms and give me none but the vaguest of directions. If you are not going to give me a round tale, then you must not snarl at me if I stumble, for I am groping in the dark." She paused but he remained silent. Smiling faintly, she added, "You seek the Emperor's approval of me, do you not? And why should he not approve of a retiring girl-child from the country?"

A long pause ensued. The tension in the room slowly dissipated, while a reluctant smile fought for possession of her brother's lips. "A 'retiring girl-child'? Surely, such a role would be much too arduous for you to maintain, my dear," was his overly solicitous inquiry.

Dia grinned. "Brat!"

He grinned back.

"Have we done with brangling? I confess, I am longing for my endmeal," Dia said, taking his arm and hoping that he would not treat her to any more such scenes for awhile.

"I cannot think why you should complain," he replied mildly. "What would you do, if you had no brother to fight with when you are feeling peevish?"

"Do you know, I have no idea," she said, apparently much struck. "I shall have to consider the matter."

"Brat!"

They left the room together, and Dia was a bit easier now that they had revived their normal style of conversation. She had made the painful decision, while she was preparing herself for the evening, to pull herself out of mental contact with her brother completely, until she could discover what had happened to him. Nothing had ever been so hard for her to willingly do! Her mind seemed echoingly empty; she had never felt so alone in her life. Yet, they chatted easily as they made their way to the throne room, where the Emperor's guests gathered before endmeal, and Dia realized sadly that her brother had not even noticed her withdrawal. She suppressed another sigh.

They came presently to the massive oak doors of Emperor Kaerkas Ormaer's throne room and a pair of uniformed, ceremonial guards sprang to open them. Daerus led her into a vast cavern of a room, filled with little except the reverberation of noisy talk, the glitter of brightly colored clothes and jewels and, overlooking all, the throne. Dia almost reeled backwards at the noise; the gentry in the neighborhood of Shae were much more refined in their social chatter. She had not been expecting such a clamorous babble.

Daerus led her forward and she had not time to distinguish more than an impression of swirling color, restlessness, a liveliness that had a touch of hysteria about it -- and, of course, the ever present darkness. Then she found herself standing before the raised dais on which sat the throne.

She had had no idea of what to expect and she examined the Emperor of the realm with interest. He was a small man, not much taller than herself, and he sat his throne as if it were a tunic that was several times too large to fit comfortably. His figure was compact, if a little pudgy with the approach of middle age, but his face came as something of a shock. It was almost invisible to her, for _his_ darkness was so dense that he hardly looked human, and she had to struggle to keep herself from backing away.

"What ails you now, Dia?" Daerus hissed fiercely.

Faintly, she shook her head. If he could not see it, there was no point in mentioning what seemed to her to be growing evidence that she was losing her mind. The chatter of the guests, the swirling colors and, above all, the darkness, seemed to be closing around her. Sternly, she repressed her growing discomfort.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Daerus was saying, "allow me to present my sister, Lady Dia of Shae."

Dia sank into a deep curtsey, as the Emperor replied, "Welcome to court, my lady."

She rose and tried to look into his eyes, but she was blinded by his darkness. "I am honored, Sire," she said.

"A well-spoken child," the Emperor said to Daerus, "and quite the beauty. Why did you never mention how charming your sister is, Lord Daerus? Do you not agree, Maermat?"

It really was unfair of her, but she could not resist. _Did you not tell them how charming I am, twin?_ she murmurred into his mind. _But how shocking!_

After a moment's struggle with himself, Daerus replied, "Indeed, Sire, she has improved beyond recognition in the time since I left my home." He bestowed a fatuous smile upon her. "I hardly recognized her."

Score a point for Daerus, she thought, sternly containing her laughter.

Meanwhile, the Emperor had beckoned to a classically beautiful young man with carefully curled black hair, who stood quietly behind his throne. "Allow me to make my son and heir known to you," he said.

Again, she curtsied. "Your Imperial Highness."

"My lady," he replied courteously, bowing over the hand he held and examining her speculatively.

Dia looked into his eyes with a growing sense of confusion. She _knew_ she had never met this imperial personage before, yet his glance was startlingly familiar. But even as she tried to remember where she might have seen those eyes or that gaze, a strange kind of lassitude came over her. It seemed that her memories grew far away, as if she had arrived years ago instead of just after midmeal. Oh, merciful Phoenix, what _was_ the matter with her?

How long she stood transfixed she could not have said. Again, she experienced that sensation of something trying to enclose her, to swallow her whole. Prince Maermat had not moved, yet he seemed to be a part of her feeling that something was trying to steal into her mind and take her away from herself. Startlement, discomfort and even curiosity slowly faded and a peculiar ringing filled her ears.

She had no idea what the Emperor was saying to her, or what she was replying. No one seemed to notice anything peculiar, so she relaxed and ceased to worry about it. She felt like a puppet; as long as whomever was pulling her strings knew what they were about, and would not land her in a scrape, she was willing to allow them to do with her what they would. It did not matter; nothing mattered.

Meanwhile, it quickly became obvious to everyone present that Shae was currently enjoying imperial favor. Dia and her brother were the object of interested glances and whispered conversation throughout the room. They were even partnered at endmeal by the Prince and Princess, while his Imperial Majesty looked on with smug satisfaction. Dia would have found such scrutiny trying, had she not still been enveloped in that comforting fog. She began to look around with incurious eyes.

Endmeal was a sumptuous affair, with course after succulent course offered at table, and the guests seemed to be drinking a great deal. In fact, the small part of her brain that was not entirely asleep noted, the lords and ladies attending the court were swilling their wine in much the same way as the commoners she had seen when she had entered the city. Fortunately, the guests had lost interest in her, and were busily carrying on countless indiscreet conversations at the top of their lungs. Several improper assignations were made, and any number of vulgar suggestions were shouted across the table amidst bawdy laughter. Dia looked gropingly at her brother but, in truth, she could see very little.

After endmeal, the Emperor and his court returned to the throne room to continue their evening's entertainment. Still sunk in that peculiar detachment, Dia had no desire to participate and retired to an unoccupied corner to watch. Several games of dice flourished and a number of thrashing tapestries suggested that the couples who had retired to hide behind them were enjoying vigorous exercise. Liveried servants were gliding around the room, dispensing wine as the guests drank without pause. A duel erupted from one of the dice games, the combatants snarling at each other as they grappled and the spectators taking bets on the victor. Dia looked about her mindlessly, still undisturbed by the scene. Absently, she wondered where her brother was.

"I had hoped that your brother would stay by you, at least long enough to present me," a vaguely familiar voice seemed to answer her unspoken question with what were, oddly enough, the first words she had heard clearly all evening. "Since I see that he has abandoned you, I shall make bold to introduce myself."

Dia turned and found a gentleman bowing before her, suffused with a strangely compelling brilliance that was almost painful to look upon. She stared at him with dull, apathetic eyes.

Meanwhile, the young man had risen from his florid bow. "I am Caelon of Aerandos," he said.

"Dia of Shae," she murmured, giving him her hand.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dia discovers an unexpected means of defense.

Dia came to herself with a shock. The lassitude which had overcome her had suddenly evaporated and she was alert once more. It almost seemed that she had been in some sort of trance and, unsure of what she had said in the last hour, and to whom, she looked around her in some alarm. Daerus was nowhere to be seen and, now that she was really seeing the bawdy revelry all around her, she blushed a fiery red in mortification. The thought of what she might have said in her stupor made her feel vulnerable and a little frightened.

Her companion watched her confusion and dismay for a moment and then, in what seemed to her to be the most profoundly understanding tones, said, "Permit me to make my mother known to you."

Dia, trembling, allowed herself to be led along the wall to where a few chairs had been set up for the older ladies. Her heart was racing and she had no desire to be presented to anyone else or, indeed, to do anything but return to her chambers to consider this strange turn of events. Even now, she felt a sort of pressure in her mind, a heavy hand bearing down on everything in and around her. Indeed, it had not been particularly subtle, but it had been terrifyingly irresistible. She could understand how the courtiers around her would have succumbed; that she, trained in the Secrets of the TimeKeepers, and well shielded, could also be helpless against this power left her feeling trapped.

And yet, whatever it was that had taken over her mind had vanished at a touch from this Caelon of Aerandos, who was somehow unscathed by that power, who was a single point of light amidst all this terrible darkness. That apparent immunity bore investigation. She took a deep, steadying breath. "Are you long at court, my lord?" she asked as they walked together down the room.

"Long enough to know that I have no wish to acquire what is politely referred to as 'court polish'," he replied, looking around him with unfeigned contempt. She looked inquiringly and he added, "My father, the Grand Duke Saeros, has business with the Emperor. He required that I and my mother accompany him."

Dia thought there was probably some reason for that and, at that moment, she did not care in the least what that reason could be. She was only glad that his Grace had insisted or Chaos alone knew what would have become of her! "And does he mean to make a long stay?" she asked, wincing at a shrill shriek of laughter.

He hesitated before replying, "To be completely frank, my lady, I hope not." He looked around and added confidentially, "Indeed, I feel as if I had been here for a thousand suns already! But come, here is my esteemed mother, looking to be in need of some unexceptional company."

The lady he was approaching was seated in a velvet cushioned chair, her expression a curious combination of boredom and pained resignation. She cheered visibly when she looked up and saw them approaching. "Caelon," she said gaily, "have you found someone to rescue me? Oh, I do beg your pardon, my dear," she went on to Dia, not waiting for an introduction, "it is very rag-mannered of me, but I can see that you are enjoying this melee as little as I am. Dreadful, is it not? If this affair were not taking place in the imperial palace, one would think this was a company of the lowest street peasants. But I should not be talking to you like this; one should always preserve at least the _appearance_ of respect for the throne -- however little the throne may deserve it! I can see that Caelon's tongue has tied itself in knots, so I shall present myself. I am the Grand Duchess Tamia of Aerandos, my dear ... and I would wager that you must be one of the Shaes. You have a great look of your mother about you, you know."

Dia, feeling the stirring of a sense of humor that had been dormant for most of the evening, glanced at Lord Caelon. He did not look to her at all as if he were having any trouble finding his tongue. His eyes were lit with unholy amusement but he had made no effort to stem the flow. "Lady Dia of Shae, Mama -- if you would but let a fellow put in a word or two."

"How very unhandsome of you!" that lady said with a fond smile for her son. "Now, here is what we shall do," she went on to Dia, lowering her voice, "for I can see that you are feeling quite uncomfortable in the midst of all this. Really, I can't _think_ what your brother can be thinking of! But never mind that! I shall be feeling unwell (as we elderly ladies are wont to do) and you shall assist me to my rooms, my dear. It is very plain to me that things will soon get out of hand here, and you are likely to find these affairs quite mortifying, you know."

Dia looked around. Things would _soon_ get out of hand? "I beg your Grace's pardon, but it seems to me that things got out of hand quite some time ago," she said ruefully.

"A very proper spirit, my dear," said her Grace approvingly. "Caelon, you shall come with us and if any should try to stop us from leaving ... "

"I shall slice them to ribbons with my dagger," he supplied readily and with the utmost cheer.

"Do hush, you ridiculous boy," said Lady Tamia, choking. "Much as I might enjoy such a scene, I am sure it would create a dreadful scandal." She sighed. "Ever since our Phoenix completed his Time, the whole world seems to have run quite mad."

"Except Aerandos, of course," Lord Caelon said, grinning.

Dia glanced at the Grand Duchess curiously. That was the sort of remark that she and her brother had been taught to keep to themselves. "Do you say that all _this_ ," and she waved her hand toward the dissipated revelry behind her, "comes about because we have no Phoenix?" She knew her teachings well enough but she was curious to know if Aerandos, too, maintained the ties of the Great Houses with the Temple of Fires.

Lady Tamia smiled at her. "Well, you are certainly better than most. The young people here in the palace seem to know nothing of the Phoenix or his priesthood or even what it all _means_."

"Yes, yes, Mama," Lord Caelon interjected, grinning wickedly, "but I believe the lady did ask a question."

"Yes, I know that, Caelon, and I wish very much that you would stop interrupting me!" Lady Tamia told him severely. "Now where was I?" she went on, ignoring her son's silently shaking shoulders. "Ah, yes. Well, as you know, my dear, we have not had a normal day, with a sunrise and a sunset I mean, since the Phoenix ended his Time. And it _does_ seem such a little thing, to be sure, but there is no denying that it is very difficult to organize much of anything when there is no common time for going to sleep or getting out of bed or going out to business or ... oh, all manner of _simple_ things! Indeed, Saeros had the worst time imaginable with his men but, you know, you cannot have an army without uniform conduct." She looked around and wrinkled her nose in distaste. "It is really too bad that something similar did not happen here. The Emperor's court seems to have become so dreadfully -- uncivilized. I can only hope that another Time will occur before this poor world falls apart."

"Nonsense!" interjected Lord Caelon. "Only think of how dull the Emperor's parties would be!"

"Oh, do be quiet, Caelon!" said her Grace. "I must look properly vaporish on my way to the doors and it would never do for you to make me laugh just now."

_Or me,_ Dia thought, sternly suppressing her own laughter and assuming a suitably attentive expression. She was more grateful to them than they could know, for their banter had stilled the quivering panic in her belly, further clearing her head. Now, all she needed was enough peace in which to _think_!

"You are retiring, my lady?"

The pressure in her mind increased as Dia turned to face the crown prince. "Lady Tamia is unwell, your Highness. I am escorting her to her chambers," she replied. The Prince took her hand, rather possessively she thought, and bowed to her. Dia felt herself sinking once more.

"Nothing serious, I hope?" he inquired politely, with a bow to her Grace.

"Not at all, Highness" Lord Caelon replied with unabated cheer. "It is merely one of those mysterious female ailments that requires the presence of another female."

Lady Tamia erupted into a terrible fit of coughing.

"In that case," said the Prince, smiling at Lord Caelon in masculine sympathy, "I have nothing more to do than wish the ladies a pleasant rest." He bowed again, adding to Dia, "I shall send a servant to inquire of you, my lady, after firstmeal is served. You have not forgotten, I hope, that you are promised to us then?"

"Of course not, your Highness," Dia said as one in a trance, although she had no idea what they had planned to do together. Gropingly, she extended her hand.

"Excellent," was his reply, giving her no clue.

"Come, my lady," Lord Caelon said, giving the prince an apologetic look and Dia a penetrating one. "I would not press you but if my mother should tumble to the floor in a faint, I fear it would be quite injurious to her dignity." He took the searching hand she had extended, unwittingly clearing Dia's mind once more.

Her Grace mumbled something appropriate and the small party finally got through the doors.

The Duchess enlivened the journey to her rooms with the ingenuous chatter that seemed natural to her. Dia, not required to keep up her end of the conversation since her Grace was in the habit of answering her own questions, gave herself over to some rapid, intense thought. It seemed that she had stumbled upon the answer to what was ailing Daerus and, if she were not very careful, she would fall victim to the same complaint. But what to do? Whoever it was seemed able to cut through the defenses of a well-trained mind as easily as a knife cuts through cheese. How was she to defend herself against such power? Nothing Phoebus had taught them seemed sufficient to deal with this situation.

And who could it be? Her first thought, that it must be Prince Maermat, she rejected. True, that trance-like state seemed to come over her as soon as he touched her hand and his eyes met hers -- the same eyes that seemed to be looking at her from her brother's face, she suddenly realized. Well, then, perhaps our good prince was indeed the culprit. He did not seem to emanate the same sort of Talent that she felt whenever she had been in Phoebus' presence but, then, neither did whatever had come over her feel like any other mind touch she knew.

None of this solved her immediate problem. How was she to spend any time in the presence of the Prince, as it seemed she was pledged to do, and still retain her wits intact? On impulse, Dia inserted a question into one of Lady Tamia's infrequent pauses. "I beg your pardon, your Grace, but are either of you acquainted with my brother?"

"Have you a brother, my dear? Yes, of course you do," her Grace said, still answering her own questions. "Is he also in the palace?"

"Why, yes, ma'am," Dia replied, affecting diffidence. "He has been here for some time and sent home to ask me to join him here."

"I am not certain but what he might have done better than to invite you to such a place as this," Lord Caelon said with surprising austerity. "You will give me leave to inform you that he must be a poor sort of a brother."

"Oh, no, Caelon, how can you say so?" her Grace came to the absent Daerus' rescue. "I expect he thought she might meet some unexceptional gentleman or some such thing."

" _Here_?" he asked, scornfully incredulous.

"Yes, here," her Grace replied firmly. "Indeed, if he is well acquainted among the Emperor's guests, he may very well have someone in mind. And if he is not very good at matchmaking, I am sure that is no fault of his, for he is only a man, you know." She added in an aside to Dia, "Men should _never_ attempt to play at making appropriate matches between young persons, for they are perfectly dismal at it, my dear. And yet, one can never seem to persuade them that this is so, for they are always meddling and always making a dreadful mull of it. In any event, I think it speaks greatly to his credit if he has given the matter any thought at all. Is he your elder brother, dear?"

"We are twins, your Grace," she replied, unable to help smiling at the notion of the Daerus she thought she knew bothering his head with her matrimonial prospects.

"Twins? But how intriguing!" Lady Tamia said, looking quite delighted. "This is wonderful, indeed, and how extraordinary that we were just speaking of the next Phoenix! Here we are."

"Your Grace?" Dia asked in some bewilderment. The three of them had come to a halt beside what must be the Ducal chambers.

"Now where was it?" Lady Tamia asked herself, with a charming frown of concentration. Lord Caelon, his lip curling, began to speak but she stopped him with a gesture. "No, no ... don't tell me ... "

"I could not tell you if I wanted to, Mama," he said patiently. "And I do not think Lady Dia can be interested in the ancient sayings of mythical creatures when she is looking so tired."

Dia, who would have very much liked to have heard which of the First Prophesies had caught the Duchess's wandering attention, said with a smile, "It seems you have an unbeliever in your midst, ma'am. How would it be if I came to your sitting room for midmeal? No doubt you will have remembered the passage by that time and if Lord Caelon finds such matters so very tedious, he will be at liberty to amuse himself elsewhere."

Lady Tamia beamed. "The very thing, my dear! I must confess, I will be very glad of your company and should dearly love to present you to my lord. Now, Caelon, do you take the child to her rooms, she looks to be quite out on her feet."

"Yes, Mama," said that dutiful young man in a suspiciously meek tone of voice, as he held the door for his mother. Once he had closed it again, he turned a quizzical glance upon Dia. "You cannot be serious."

"My lord?"

"My lady?" he mocked her. "I fully appreciate your exquisite manners but you will be heartily bored by the time my mother has done reading to you from the sayings of this Phoenix of hers."

"I do not fear it, my lord," she said with calm certainty, adding with a faint smile, "It would be difficult to imagine finding her Grace boring under any circumstances." She turned and slowly made her way back down the hall toward her own rooms. "You do not believe then?" she asked tentatively.

"I cannot bring myself to do so, my lady, despite my beloved Mama's best efforts," he told her.

_How very odd_ , she thought.

"Is it not?" he replied smilingly, causing Dia to suffer another shock. Apparently unaware that she had not spoken aloud, he went on, "Clearly, I am the most undutiful son imaginable."

"Not at all," she said politely. "It is curious, though, that you harbor this disbelief when you have yourself witnessed the end of a Time and need not rely solely upon the teachings of priests. Have you never wondered what had happened?"

"I feel sure there must be some rational explanation that would satisfy a logical man better than the notion that one man died and the world stopped." He added with a shrug, "I have met many men and even seen some die. It is not such a matter for wonder. And, in any event, who has ever even seen this mysterious Phoenix fellow? I do believe that someone must have made him up!"

She nodded without comment, but did not smile at the raillery in his voice. For all he seemed to possess some latent Talent, he did not believe. For some reason, she found that unutterably sad.

"You are troubled, my lady?" he asked into the silence.

"It is of no moment," she replied, feeling subdued and not looking at him.

"Might I be of some assistance?"

"Thank you, my lord, it is very kind in you but it is not needful."

He seemed to accept this rebuff meekly enough, yet, she could sense a certain diffidence about him, as if he were loathe to leave her, that she found oddly comforting. By this time, they had reached her door and he bowed politely. "Then I will bid you a pleasant rest, my lady," he said.

She watched him turn away from her for the second time since she had arrived, only then remembering her dilemma. "Lord Caelon!" she said hurriedly.

He turned back to her readily enough. "Yes, my lady?"

"There _is_ one thing that you can do for me," she said, holding out her hand. She spoke tentatively, certain he would think her quite mad but unable to conceive of another remedy to her most pressing problem.

"How can I serve you, Lady Dia?" he asked her kindly.

"You can do this," she said very seriously, indicating the hand he had unconsciously taken with a slight pressure of her fingers. "Any time you see me, anywhere in this palace, come and shake my hand. Indeed, if you can do no more than pause at my door before you retire in the evening, so that I can do _this_ , I should be excessively grateful."

During this speech, Dia, widening her considerable sensitivities, felt herself growing, expanding, strengthening somehow, with him and of herself, as their hands held. Indeed, she got the feeling that if only they could stand so for long enough, she could then withstand whatever that mysterious dark enemy threw at her. She held his eyes with her own and saw them assume a guarded, wary expression, although the smile did not leave his face. _You feel this, too, but you do not know what it means,_ she said silently, still watching him.

His eyes widened. "My lady?"

"My lord?"

He blinked. "What is all this?" he demanded with a slight, puzzled frown. He looked as if he thought she was playing some trick on him and was fully prepared to give her a severe scold. The notion amused her.

So, she smiled kindly at him. "I doubt I could explain it to your satisfaction, my lord," was all she said.

There was a distinct pause and Lord Caelon's expression turned quizzical again. "Well, and that certainly puts me in my place, and serve me right, heretic that I am." He paused and his voice softened. "Never mind. I think you could explain, if you would, but I will not press you. No doubt you have good reason to keep your own counsel just at this present."

"And, will you ... ?"

"I will most happily perform this small service for you, ma'am," he said, so pompously that she chuckled. "Indeed," he added with rueful candor, "I fancy the difficult part of this duty will be the letting go."

Dia had also noticed an almost embarrassing unwillingness to release his hand, but she did not comment, merely sinking into a thankful curtsey.

Clearly reluctant but without further speech, Lord Caelon released her hand and bowed her into her room.

Dia made her way through the sitting room to the bedchamber, her body weary but her mind running around in the kind of circles that were likely to keep her from sleep until she had contrived some sort of plan of action. _And the first step toward accomplishing that,_ she told herself severely, _is to seek some sort of calm._ She donned her nightdress, sat on her bed and closed her eyes.

Phoebus had taught her and Daerus this technique one day when they had asked him how he managed to retain his unruffled demeanor in the face of any manner of confusion swirling about him. Dia sent her mind on an inward journey, sinking deep into herself to find the essential core of her being. It its way, this method of meditation was the mental opposite of the reaching touch with which she and her brother communicated. Rather than expanding, growing outward to touch the mental energies of those around them, one must shrink, drawing inward to focus upon one's central kernel of being. Nothing, Phoebus had told them, no matter how powerful, could touch that essence; as long as they could find it, and take all the time they needed to explore it and to draw as much of it as required to the surface, they could always retain their mental integrity against attack.

Dia had never had occasion to call this facet of her training into practice; living quietly on her father's estate all her life, she had found little that she could not handle without needing to draw upon these deep reserves. Now, sinking further and further into herself, she was astonished at just how profound those reserves were. _How little I have known myself_ , she thought in wonder. Breathing slowly and deeply, she could not have said how long she sat so, for she was determined that nothing should hurry her through this first encounter with herself. Really, it was rather too bad she had never done this before; the longer she spent experiencing herself in this new way, the more peaceful, yet joyous, she became. Phoebus had never mentioned this powerful, exalted feeling. Little wonder that the archpriest was always so calm.

Finally, almost reluctantly, Dia opened her eyes and set about considering her situation. She wasted no time wondering whether her brother was under the influence of the same dark fog that overtook her mind during endmeal; that Daerus was in thrall to that mental sludge must be obvious to one who knew him as well as his twin. But, before she could address her brother's mental captivity, she needed to know just what that cloying blackness was and who or what wielded it. Her initial assumption, that someone in the Imperial family was to blame, was based merely on the fact that she had first noticed that darkened aura within the boundaries of Ormaer, and that she herself had succumbed to it as soon as she had come into close contact with Prince Maermat. Yet, for aught she knew, it might as easily be someone else or even some sort of disease of Talent that was spread by proximity or contact.

In spite of her father's consistent accusations of unremitting featherheadedness on the part of his twin children, Dia was not unaware of the political difficulties of the situation. She could not imagine what either the Emperor or his heirs could desire of them that required either subterfuge or mental coercion, for Shae was a loyal and honorable House. Indeed, she realized, his Imperial Majesty had nothing to do but issue an imperial command to acquire whatever object or deed he craved. _Well,_ she corrected herself, _almost._ The Great Houses _did_ have rights, even in the face of imperial displeasure. If the Emperor, or his heirs, was using some sort of mental power in order to control the children of Shae and, ultimately, the House of Shae, she needed to know the full extent of their plans.

On the other hand, if some outside agency sought control of the Imperial family of Ormaeranda, it could only be for the purpose of some sort of mischief or treason. As distasteful as she had found Kaerkas the Beast -- and she had little difficulty in perceiving why her father had no use for the Emperor and his sycophants -- she had no notion of sitting idly by while someone, powerfully schooled in Secrets of their own, caused their ruler to commit some dreadful blunder or worse.

_Yes,_ she thought, _this matter bears investigation._

Precisely how she was to initiate such an investigation presented her with another problem. The simplest way of learning more about that dense, dark mental blanket was to allow it to overtake her again. Very likely, there would be no difficulty about that, since she was pledged to the imperial party immediately after firstmeal. Yet, the notion of spending any time with her mind numbed by murky shadows filled her with trepidation. How could she learn anything of the phenomenon if her wits were dulled to all whenever she came into contact with it? And, more importantly to her, how was she to drag herself free of it?

That dilemma, and the solution she had found for it in the person of Lord Caelon, reminded her of the party from Aerandos. Dia wondered why this aura of darkness seemed to have left both Lady Tamia and Lord Caelon unscathed. Could it be simply that they had not been in the palace for long enough to succumb to it? That did not seem likely, for only think of the terrifying swiftness with which she herself, fully shielded, had surrendered to it. Could they be somehow invulnerable to it? She could readily believe it of Caelon of Aerandos, who stalked about the palace blazing light, when a simple clasp of his hand could chase the darkness from her mind. But what of her Grace? And the Grand Duke? Dia saw that she would do well to cultivate their acquaintance.

And what was she to do about Daerus? Was he really as besotted with the Princess Kera as he said, or was that merely another manipulation of the mysterious wielder of darkness? She had only the vaguest recollections of the fair lady with reddish-blonde hair to whom her brother had presented her; try as she might, Dia could recall no distinguishing characteristics of mind or manner that would make the girl stand out in a crowded room. Considering her stupor at endmeal, she could not judge whether or not her brother's tastes truly ran in that direction. She had no difficulty with the notion of Daerus marrying an imperial princess, but she thought it might be a very good thing to get him away from the palace for a time. Long enough, at least, for him to come to himself and learn whether this betrothal was indeed what he wished. She sighed. He would never leave the palace willingly, as matters now stood.

Would it make any difference to her ability to persuade him, she wondered, if she were to attempt to renew their mind-touch? Dia recalled how her twin had flinched away from that touch when she had tried earlier to strengthen it. _Almost,_ she mused, _as if he found it painful._ Well, she would postpone such a mind-touch, she decided. Until she better understood what she was up against, it would serve no purpose to inflict herself upon him in such a fashion.

That brought her back to her first decision, to take a better look at the darkness. But how to maintain her own mental integrity? Dia reviewed the experience just passed, the joyous calm of her contact with her inner being, closing her eyes and savoring it once more. Could she carry that untouchable kernel of self with her, holding it in her mental hand and allowing _it_ to observed the thing? Perhaps she could retain enough awareness to make her observations in spite of the enveloping, enervating blackness. Likewise, emerging from the fog presented little difficulty if she could keep her wits about her enough to make her way to Lord Caelon's presence once she was quit of the Imperial family.

_How fortunate that Grand Duke Saeros had business with the Emperor that had brought him to the palace just at this time!_ she thought with considerable relief.

Having settled on a course of action, Dia stretched out on the bed. Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was again of Lord Caelon, and she wondered what he had made of her strange request. Perhaps, she thought drowsily, when they were better acquainted, she would explain the matter to him. Who knows? He might even believe her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dia explores the darkness

 

Dia knew, before she opened her eyes, that her brother was pounding on the door. She had risen and dressed in some haste, determined to give herself enough time to commune again with that eternal, internal core before she was required to face the dangers of darkness once more. She felt wonderfully refreshed, even more so than when she had awakened from a deep and restful slumber. She took a deep breath, cloaking her skin with a profound calm that she hoped she could carry about with her, and refusing to be hurried.

"Dia!"

She heard several more thumps on the door. Inhaling deeply once more, she went to admit her brother.

Dia wasn't sure what Daerus was expecting, but when she opened her door and he looked upon her, his head reared back slightly and his face reflected amazement and displeasure.

Her brows lifted. "Is something amiss?" she asked him in a tone of polite interest as she ushered him inside.

He stared frowningly at her. "Where did you run away to last night?"

"I did not 'run away' at all, my dear," she placidly replied. "I merely retired some time after endmeal."

"Without bidding our hosts a good rest? I had not thought you were so rag-mannered."

"I supposed I must be just so rag-mannered," she said pensively, "but, as it happens, Prince Maermat met me on my way out and I was able, at least, to take my leave of him." She noticed but did not comment upon the hint of a satisfied smile that greeted this news. "I must say, I am at something of a loss to understand you, twin," she went on. "When last I saw you, before you came to this place, you would have been horrified at the sort of activities that the Emperor's guests seem to enjoy."

"It would do you no harm to learn something of pastimes that are more elegant than hobnobbing with the grooms," he told her severely.

Dia laughed. "More elegant? I am given to understand that dicing, wenching and drinking wine as if it had just been discovered are more elegant than honest work, caring for our beasts of burden?"

"You are beginning to sound like Phoebus, sister," he said with a sneer.

"Thank you," Dia retorted cordially, but she wondered with something like despair if she would ever hear her brother's merry laugh again.

Daerus continued to staring at her disapprovingly. "It is not for you to judge the conduct of your peers," he said.

_He is goading me,_ she thought, her curiosity aroused even as she renewed her mantle of composure. _Interesting._ "So you say," she replied pleasantly. "But, even if I am not to judge them, do not expect me to emulate them, for I had rather throw myself from the topmost tower of this palace." She suddenly grinned as another thought occurred to her. "And, if my father should learn that I had been aping the behavior of my 'peers', as you style them, no doubt he would spare me the trouble and perform the deed himself."

That surprised a laugh from him and hope surged in Dia's heart once more. Perhaps Daerus was not entirely lost to her, if she could still joke him about their beloved, if tiresome, parent. "So, did you merely come here to scold me? Or had you some other errand?" she asked, still smiling.

"His Highness awaits you in the small dining room."

"Ah." She nodded and followed him from the room.

"Why do you not take your meals with the imperial family?" Daerus asked her as they walked down the corridor.

"I have not been invited to take my meals with the imperial family," she replied, "for which I am profoundly thankful."

"Why?"

"Because I have no wish to spend any more time with them than is strictly necessary."

"And why not?"

"I do not suppose you will permit me to say merely that I am not comfortable around them?" she asked, smiling faintly.

"Really, Dia, one would think that you were the veriest country bumpkin!" Daerus expostulated, almost laughing. "There is no need for you to feel intimidated, simply because the Emperor shows you favor."

Dia's backbone automatically stiffened at this insult, drawing her to her full height. "I am not in the least intimidated, and well you should know it," she snapped contemptuously. "I am Shae; I have no thought of being cowed by Ormaer, on the throne or elsewhere!" _He_ _ **is**_ _goading me, and to some purpose,_ she told herself. _Come, Dia girl, pull yourself together._ After a brief pause and a few steadying breaths, she added gently, "I was right, you know. This _is_ an elegant brothel and, I give you fair warning, I shall quit the place just as soon as I may."

His eyes went flat with hostility. "Well, here's a high flight. Emperor Kaerkas is a great man; we are fortunate to have him on the throne of Ormaeranda. And, if it is not your place to judge the amusements of your peers, it is even less your place to judge those of your emperor."

"Very likely not. I wish you will tell me why you must needs get angry with me every time I open my lips to speak," she said mildly. "I had thought that my task was to win the Emperor's approval. You never mentioned that I was required to _like_ him, as well."

"And how do you imagine that you will win his approval if you avoid him at every turn?" he asked her impatiently.

Dia feigned a melancholy sigh. "Alas, my poor brother is so little acquainted with me that he thinks I cannot be adroit!" She went on confidingly, "That certainly puts me on my mettle! I shall contrive to avoid him at as many turns as I can, and so smoothly that he shall suspect nothing. _And_ , I shall expect you to be suitably impressed."

"Oh, stop talking such nonsense!" he said furiously. "And I don't see what you find to laugh about!"

"Very likely not," she said again, still chuckling.

He said nothing for a moment, obviously mastering his irritation. "And what did you think of Prince Maermat?" he asked her with studied calm at last.

She shrugged. "He seemed a pleasant enough young man," she said carelessly. "It is to be hoped that he improves upon acquaintance."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She looked at him then. "I mean, my beloved brother, that his Imperial Highness is a dead bore."

"And that is your last word?"

"No, how should it be?" she replied in a reasonable tone. "I am barely acquainted with him. I would certainly hope that he can be persuaded to be more amusing than he has been thus far. That awful endmeal last night cannot have shown him to advantage."

Daerus responded to that with a grunt. Then, as they came in sight of what appeared to be their destination, he stopped and, turning to her, said, "He is the best of good fellows and if you turn up your nose at him, then you are a worse featherhead than Father has always proclaimed you and I wash my hands of you!"

That made her laugh again. "Well, that is certainly a threat to make me tremble in my boots!" she gasped, but sobered -- with considerable difficulty -- when she saw that he was looking offended. "I do not know what ridiculous scheme you have in your head," she added with fraternally good-natured scorn, "but you _know_ that you have never been able to manipulate me into what you had not the temerity to ask for outright. And I have already warned you, Daerus, that I shall leave this place as soon as I may without giving offense."

"We shall see," was all he said, and rather ominously, before ushering her into the room.

_Indeed, we shall,_ she thought very privately as she followed him.

"Lady Dia!" Prince Maermat had risen and come around the table to greet her. "I can see that you have enjoyed a pleasant rest, for you are looking wonderfully refreshed." He bowed.

"Thank you, your Highness," she replied, her eyes brushing his briefly before she sank into a curtsey. "I had a notion that I was looking quite hagged last night, only my brother was too kind to say so," she added with an impish smile.

"Oh, dear," the Prince said with comical dismay, trying to catch her eyes, "you mistake my meaning, my lady! But come, here are my father and sister waiting to greet you."

Again, Dia sank into a curtsey, as the Emperor fixed her with a jaundiced eye and barked, "Well, Dia of Shae, yes? You here, ha!"

The Imperial siblings exchanged a quick glace before Prince Maermat, frowning slightly, said, "Er ... yes, Father. You will recall that Lady Dia joins her excellent brother in attending us for morning audiences."

Emperor Kaerkas responded to this reminder with a grunt. Eyes glittering in a manner that chilled her to the marrow of her bones, he told Dia, "I hope you are properly humbled to be among the favored of Ormaer."

_And that,_ Dia thought ironically, _is certainly the sort of greeting designed to appeal to a proud daughter of Shae._ "Thank you, Sire," she said, wrapping her composure about her shoulders in search of warmth.

"Very well, then," said the Emperor, pushing himself heavily to his feet.

As the small party followed him from the room, Princess Kera fell in beside Dia and smiled at her. "My father was very happy to make your acquaintance, my lady," she said in a caressing voice. "Indeed, he is becoming more and more fond of House Shae."

"How gratifying," Dia replied lightly, still not looking at anyone. In spite of her resolve of the previous evening, she realized that she was going to have to exert considerable force of mind to voluntarily endure another session of mental darkness. "My brother bid me be sure to make a favorable impression upon the Emperor, you know," she went on. "It would appear that I have been agreeable to some purpose. I have nothing now to do but thank him and go back home."

Princess Kera fleetingly looked a bit alarmed at that but only laughed and said, "Your brother warned us that you are a merry soul, my lady. Indeed, he begged us not to take your words too seriously, thinking you might unwittingly offend us with your jests."

"Poor Daerus! I fear I am a sad trial to him," Dia agreed pleasantly.

"Oh, you must not think he does not hold you in affection," said the Princess in apparent distress. "It is merely that he was particularly anxious to keep us from judging you harshly, for I understand that you had never been from home before this trip?" Dia nodded affirmation and her Highness continued, "So, how can you be expected to know how you should go on?"

"How indeed?" Dia remarked thoughtfully. "One would think that the district of Shae was some remote pigsty. How _could_ I be expected to know aught of propriety of manner or deportment?"

"Not at all," the Princess insisted. "But you cannot deny, my lady, that at my father's court you are seeing a level of conduct that you are not at all accustomed to."

"And you are quite right," said Dia, seemingly very much struck, "I could never deny _that_!" Without seeming to, she noted the indignant expression on her brother's face with amused interest.

"There!" Princess Kera seemed relieved. "I daresay a touch of court sophistication will do you good and I am sure you will enjoy it excessively. Oh!" she added in her soft voice, as if the idea had just occurred to her, "how would it be if you were to place yourself in my charge while you are here? Surely, that would much relieve your mind."

"Relieve my mind?"

"Why, yes. I expect you must be quite nervous about your first stay at court."

"Indeed?"

"For fear that your inexperience will cause you to embarrass yourself, you know," Princess Kera said, making the matter quite clear.

"I see." The imperial princess was gazing at her earnestly and Dia found herself wondering uncharitably if her Highness' air of ingenuousness was supposed to make these blood insults more palatable. Perhaps she was again being goaded? Dia chose instead to be amused.

"But I can easily guide you so that you will avoid social mishaps, leaving you free to savor the amusements of the palace." The Princess concluded her little speech with something of the air of a successful conjurer.

"And which amusements would those be, your Highness?" Dia asked, her face a picture of innocent inquiry.

The Princess laughed again. "Oh, you are joking me again. Seriously, my lady, what do you say? I would be happy to serve you in this way and," she added with a coquettish glance at Daerus, "it would be as well, I think, were we to become better acquainted."

Dia took another deep, steadying breath, ruthlessly suppressing both her annoyance and her laughter. She was very sure that she was not imagining the sudden, tense silence that awaited her response to that offer. They seemed mighty anxious to adopt her into the family circle, she thought. Given the peculiar behavior of her brother, their very insistence invited her resistance.

Ignoring Daerus altogether, she said serenely, "You are very kind, your Highness, but I am commended by my mother to Lady Tamia's care."

"Indeed?" Princess Kera said, surprised. "Lady Mara knew that the Grand Duchess of Aerandos would be here, then?"

"No, how should she, your Highness?" Dia said calmly. "She merely suggested to me that I might investigate upon my arrival to discover whether the Lady Tamia of Aerandos or the Lady Lena of Gedbaen were in the palace. I gather that they were girls together at court, and my esteemed mother thought that either would serve the purpose admirably, should I find myself in need of an experienced friend."

"How fortunate, then, that Lady Tamia is indeed visiting us at this time," the Princess said woodenly.

Prince Maermat was looking disappointed and her brother's expression was murderous. Dia affected not to see them. "Is it not?" she replied cheerfully. "For I would not wish to impose upon your kindness and my brother, having persuaded me to come here, has wholly abandoned me to pursue his own amusements."

"Oh, if we are to talk of _brothers_ ... !" her Highness said, casting a saucy glance at Prince Maermat, which caused that young man to grin, and allowing the matter to drop. Dia, without seeming to, saw the teasing twinkle leave her Highness' glance, to be replaced with a baffled, frustrated expression.

They had by this time arrived in the throne room and proceeded to dispose themselves around the room, Daerus seating Princess Kera while Prince Maermat showed Dia to a chair. That provided the opportunity Dia had been both awaiting and dreading, for while she had thus far avoided allowing any of them to look into her eyes or to touch her, she could not dispense with the protocol of letting the Prince take her hand to guide her to her seat. Dia, beginning to feel that sinking pressure, took yet another deep breath and sank away from it, into herself. As she had hoped, the strange lassitude settled over her but did not consume her, and while she felt remote from the events around her, she did not think she would forget them.

_Excellent,_ she thought, well satisfied even though she felt dreadfully uncomfortable, as if she were covered with the contents of the stable floors. _And now, to work._

It was a curious process, a bit like closely examining a scabrous but painless rash that had somehow broken out on one's arm. Dia felt/saw the mental intrusion as a blanketing barrier between herself and everything around her. And, she realized now, there was much more to it than the simple languid indifference initially conveyed by its overwhelming darkness. There were subtler influences in it that would have slowly shaped her preferences, without her awareness and against her will, had she found no way to neutralize it.

She sensed a distaste for all the attributes of a purposeful life -- honor, duty, work -- and a mindless, insatiable hunger for the sensual pleasures and for material wealth. As well, she began to understand the shameless debauchery of the denizens of the palace. She candidly admitted to herself that, if she had remained under the influence of this mental fog for long enough, the deadening indifference would have ended in a desperate need to endlessly titillate herself, if only to remain convinced that she was still alive. But if she understood the craving, she also understood, within herself, how ultimately empty such amusements were. A surge of overwhelming pity for these people her brother had styled her 'peers' possessed her. Indeed, she was not even surprised to find the tiny kernel of a suicidal impulse buried deep within the darkness. She would have to handle Daerus with infinite care.

But the question remained: where was it coming from? She would have to find out before she could make any attempt to salvage her brother or even do much to protect herself. She looked around the room at her companions.

To her dismay, but not to her surprise, the peculiarly innocent beauty of Prince Maermat had been replaced -- or perhaps overlaid, instinct told her -- by a sort of arrogant hardness, and the speculative gaze that had become so familiar to her was back. There was, she noted with interest, an additional hint of possessiveness in his eyes as he returned her glance. Princess Kera's insipid girlishness now seemed much less insipid; she now looked upon her world with a cynical, calculating eye. And, yet, they did not really look any different. Dia could not have pointed to any particular feature or act that had changed her impressions of these Imperial siblings. It was almost as if someone or something had already consumed them, even as it had consumed Daerus, and had stamped its mark on their features.

And that left her no closer to discovering who or what was responsible -- and why.

Meanwhile, the Emperor did not seem to have changed at all; his eyes were just as dangerous as they had been when she had first arrived in the imperial breakfast room. He was interviewing a common tradesman, a scribe to judge by the inkstains on his fingers. Dia was a little surprised that she would notice such a detail, groping about in this fog. The tradesman had prostrated himself before the throne, visibly trembling, as the Emperor roared at him, clutching a sheaf of parchment.

"What do you mean, writing such stuff?" the Emperor was demanding.

"If it please yer honor," the poor man said in a voice hardly above a whisper, "I didn't write it, sir. I just copied down what was give me, sir."

"I don't care if you wrote it or not!" declared his Majesty, "You should have returned this commission as soon as you saw it's content. You shall be punished for this outrage! I _shall_ have respect!"

The shrill note in the Emperor's last two sentences seemed to confuse the scribe. "Please, yer honor," he said, "I didn't know. I can't read. I just copy."

"That is no excuse! This is _**treason**_!" Emperor Kaerkas shouted, spraying spittle as he yanked violently on the bellpull beside his throne. "Take this traitor out and hang him," he told the soldiers who answered his summons.

"Please, sir ... " the tradesman pleaded in some bewilderment as the soldiers roughly yanked him to his feet.

"Find his home and burn it to the ground, and hail his family, if he has one, to the slave markets," the Emperor went on with relish. His eyes were alight with cruel anticipation as he issued these orders and seemed to pause to savor the pain he had certainly caused.

For the tradesman's eyes now held panic and terror and despair, as he begged not for his own life but for the safety of his family. "No!" he cried. "My missus don't have nowt to do wi' what I scribe, yer honor! It ain't fair to take her and her babies! _Please ..._!"

Great, wracking sobs and incoherent, panicked entreaties echoed from the cavernous ceiling, but the Emperor, with calculated disinterest, was already instructing his guardsmen to admit his next appointment.

Dia blinked. For an instant, she heard a peculiar shimmering buzz and felt an odd stillness descend upon her. Inexplicably, she seemed to see a tiny kernel of light, like a flame applied to a lantern viewed from far away, shining steadily in that inner, sacred core of herself. Without consciously deciding to do so, she found herself focusing all her concentration upon that tiny light, as the room and its occupants faded from her awareness. And she knew, without knowing how she could have known, that something of consequence was about to happen.

_Dia ..._

Dia immediately recognized her brother's mental touch and realized, as well, that Daerus was not alone. In the instant before her brother's mind had met hers, she felt that same black, bone-deep chill that had assailed her as she had left her rooms before last endmeal. She shivered, wondering absently why that should be.

_Yes, Daerus?_

_I know that you feel this power._

Indeed, she did feel it. The blanketing fog that had enveloped her grew blacker, palpating as if it were a man flexing his muscles. She sharpened her focus on that untouchable inner core of herself, with its small, eternal light, even as she replied, _Of course, I do. It feels perfectly dreadful, dearest. What is it?_

_Dreadful?_ A soundless chuckle tickled her senses. _Oh, yes, I suppose it must seem that way to you, for you have not yet felt the beauty of it._

_Beauty?_ she injected a note of distaste into her "voice". _Do you find it so, Daerus?_

_It is of all things the most wonderful I have ever experienced, sister,_ he told her persuasively. _It is powerful, irresistibly powerful._

_Is power so sweet to you, then?_

_Power is everything to such as we, Dia. Why else were we born to the talents we possess?_

_Why, indeed?_ she quipped, knowing better. _I confess, I cannot share your enthusiasm for it._

_Why not?_

_It is cold._

_It is clear and stark and beautiful,_ he told her.

_It is dark._

_There is peace in the darkness._

_It is unclean._

A scornful snort greeted that observation. _Do not be a little fool, Dia,_ her brother told her with fraternal brusqueness. _What need have we to care for such things? We are above considerations of what may or may not be unclean._

_I fear I do not have such an exalted opinion of myself, dearest,_ she said with calm amusement.

She felt him "lean" into her, increasing the pressure that bore down upon her mind. _No, but do you turn away from me so easily?_ he asked, wheedling. _We have been together for as long as we have drawn breath; will you not walk with me now?_

As he spoke, it seemed that a thousand memories flooded her mind. Daerus skillfully reminded her of the play, the squabbles, the camaraderie, and, above all, the laughter they had shared all their lives. Without even thinking, she sought to strengthen their mental bond, longing suddenly and passionately for the ease and comfort of their former link. She was so lonely, so very lonely and, while Daerus had been distant and unreachable since she had arrived, he suddenly seemed very close.

_Yes!_ he encouraged her. _Come with me, Dia. Surrender to this power, even as I have. I miss you, too._

She was sorely tempted, and she knew that he knew it. _But, I detest this darkness of yours,_ she told him plaintively, after a long, silent struggle with herself. _It is a vile, revolting, mental muck._

_Do not be missish, Dia._ he replied in brisk accents, brushing off her objections as if they were no more significant than a fly. _It is not your style._

Irritated, she responded in kind. _Well, and if this mire is the price I must pay for the privilege of wielding such power as you offer, I prefer to decline,_ she said tartly, as the blackness grew still heavier and she realized she was being goaded again _._

_You cannot decline, silly girl! Look at how easily I have buried your mind in darkness._

_Well, and look at how easily I threw off your darkness after last endmeal,_ she pointed out, once more calm. _Perhaps it is not so very powerful after all._

_I have been gentle with you, Dia,_ he told her haughtily. _I do not want to hurt you. But I have chosen my path and I am determined that you shall tread that path with me._

_Why?_

_Because you must!_ And with that, his touch was gone.

Once again, she was assailed by a wave of longing for the familiar mental touch of her twin. Could she join him on the path he had chosen? she wondered. Could she willingly wallow in that awful mental slime, simply for the pleasure of the special bond they had once shared? Did she want to? Aye, now, there was a telling question. Her heart called out for her beloved brother, but the fellow she had just spoken with did not seem very like him; his touch was familiar, yet strange. Daerus had said she would soon grow accustomed to the darkness, but she found she had no real wish to become used to this dense mental fog, with its murky, chill indifference.

It seemed that she had a choice to make, and it was of all things the most irritating that she should learn of it when she was not in a position to consider what she had been told. Would she spend her entire stay in this blighted palace wishing for some peace and privacy in which to think? She turned her attention away from her disturbing conversation with Daerus and looked around the throne room again.

Emperor Kaerkas had risen and was stepping down from his throne. " . . . advise them that they are to report to me directly after midmeal," he was instructing a footman. "Come, let us repair to the dining hall." And with that, he strutted toward the door.

Dia got to her feet and, in company with Daerus and the rest of the imperial family, left the throne room in the Emperor's wake. Just outside the door, the party encountered Lord Caelon, in conversation with the same footman the Emperor had just sent on his errand.

"Well met, Caelon of Aerandos," the Emperor hailed the younger man. "I had just sent this fellow to ask your father to report to me after you have had your midmeal, but no doubt you will spare him the trouble. I would have his decision, for the matter becomes urgent."

"Well met, indeed, your Majesty," Lord Caelon replied formally, bowing first to Emperor Kaerkas and then to his son and daughter. "I will be very happy to convey your invitation to my father."

The Emperor gave Lord Caelon a sharp glance for his choice of words and then a curt nod of acknowledgement, before moving on. Lord Caelon, apparently oblivious, stepped up to intercept Dia, who dropped a curtsey and gave him her hand.

"How fortunate that I have found you, my lady," he said, bowing over the hand she had given him.

With that greeting, two things happened. The inner light she had noticed in the throne room brightened and grew -- a little, just a little -- and the cloying mists that had clouded her thoughts and numbed her feelings vanished.

Dia raised smilingly thankful eyes to her unsuspecting rescuer. "Indeed, my lord?" she said quizzically. And, as soon as her mind was her own again, she knew that her choice was already made. Indeed, there was no contest -- but how clever of Daerus and his unseen companion to attempt to pressure her into giving her pledge when she was sunk in that disgusting mental sludge and could not think clearly! She wondered if that had been his idea. _Really,_ she thought, both surprised and self-congratulatory, _I am glad I asked this of Lord Caelon. It was a_ _ **very**_ _good idea._

She knew he heard her thought, for his eyes suddenly brimmed with suppressed mirth. "I am bid to convey her Grace's compliments and to tell you that she is pining for your company. You recall that you are promised to us for midmeal?"

She had, with some difficulty, retrieved her hand and now cast a surreptitious glance at her brother. He was exchanging a look with his betrothed that was as vexed as it was mystified. With a certain malicious delight, she said, "Yes, of course I remember and was just about to make my excuses to my imperial hosts. I do hope your Highnesses will forgive me," she added, turning to them with a gracious smile once she had taken the arm Lord Caelon offered. _Let them sit and wonder how I have shed their trap so easily_ , she thought, knowing but not minding that Caelon of Aerandos could hear every uncharitable word _. No doubt it will keep them out of mischief!_

"You return to us after midmeal?" Daerus asked her, his eyes thunderous.

"I fear not, twin," she told him sweetly, smiling with satisfaction at her brother's silent and bewildered fuming. Never had she derived so much enjoyment from simply refusing an invitation! "I shall be with her Grace for the rest of the day and will likely accompany her down to endmeal. No doubt I shall see you then."

She felt her brother's mind at work before he actually attempted to touch her again. Never had she experienced such a ponderous mental weight, as if he sought to crush her mind and her will to resist, and Dia recalled his previous assertion that he had been gentle with her. Was this his attempt to prove to her how much power he had at his disposal? Did he think to force his stinking darkness upon her here and now? With deliberate calm, she pushed the overpowering touch away, making no effort to be gentle and wondering why the task should be so easily accomplished. _Do not try to bully me, twin,_ she told him in tranquil accents. _I will choose my_ _ **own**_ _path._

_There is only one possible choice, Dia,_ Daerus told her. _Remember._

_Nonsense!_ Surreptitiously and, she hoped, unnoticed by Lord Caelon, Dia allowed her fingertip to touch his lordship's wrist as she held her brother's glance with her own. _If one of the choices is darkness, then the other choice must surely be light._

And, even as she said it, that inner kernel of light flared unasked into a brilliant flash of bright and cheery warmth. _How intriguing!_ As she had previously done with her brother's darkness, she wondered absently why that should be.

Even more intriguing, Daerus flinched away from her. So, Dia noted with interest, did Princess Kera. No, Daerus had **not** been alone, but Dia wondered why he seemed to require assistance to reach out a mere five feet in order to contact her mind. He had never needed such help before. It would appear that this beauteous darkness of which her brother was so enamored was a weakening influence, rather than a strengthening one.

_Overall, a productive morning,_ Dia decided as she sailed away on Lord Caelon's arm. _And instructive. Only now,_ she added with a silent sigh, _I must decide whether or not to style my brother my enemy ... and that may prove the most difficult choice of all!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dia enjoys a meal with House Aerandos

When Dia, accompanied by Lord Caelon, entered the Grand Duchess's sitting room a few moments later, she found that lady bent almost double over a sizable trunk, rummaging about and muttering to herself distractedly. "Oh, no ... no ... it cannot be that I left it at Aerandos ... I was sure ... oh, here it ... no, that's not it ...," her Grace mumbled.

"Oh, Mama," Lord Caelon sang to her agitated Grace, casting a wicked glance at Dia and causing that young lady to choke on a laugh.

"Oh, Caelon," wailed Lady Tamia in tones of the greatest distress, still without emerging from her trunk, "do not be teasing and infuriating. Help me to find it. She will be here at any moment."

"I am afraid she is already here, Mama," his lordship said to his agitated parent.

"Oh!" With somewhat surprising agility that was only slightly marred by the flowing draperies currently fashionable among older ladies, Lady Tamia started, straightened and turned, all in one movement. "Oh, Caelon, you wretch!" she said, recovering quickly with a rueful laugh.

Dia chuckled. "He is very unchivalrous, is he not?"

"I make no doubt that it is entirely my own fault for indulging him shamelessly when he was a child," Lady Tamia owned handsomely.

"If that is so, your Grace, I feel sure you must be right," Dia agreed instantly. "I expect, if my father were here, he would say that Lord Caelon would have benefitted enormously from being spanked as a child -- hard and often."

"As he has perhaps said of his twin children?" asked Lord Caelon, looking sly.

"Caelon!" Lady Tamia said, with a worried glance at her young guest.

But Dia only laughed again. "Never fear, ma'am. My lord is perfectly right, scorch him!" she said in unimpaired good humor.

"Well, but, even so, my dear," Lady Tamia said gravely, "however cleverly he may have guessed the truth, and however much you and your brother may have made nuisances of yourselves as children, it is not at all the thing for him to be _saying_ so! Now, what have I said to send the pair of you into whoops?" she asked, bewildered. "I must say, I wonder at Lord Loraed, really I do! To be saying such things of his children, and right in front of them, too! I confess, I am thankful that my lord has never had occasion to speak so ill of his heir."

"At least, not to my face," Lord Caelon added, still grinning.

"There has not been the least need," said a new voice, a deep, rumbling voice that seemed used to commanding attention. "I placed my heir in the ranks of the army and let my drill sergeants teach him the realities of his situation."

Lord Saeros stood just inside the threshold, seeming to fill a great deal of space as he did so. He was an imposing tree trunk of a man, yet he moved quietly and with the precision that came naturally to a lifelong military man. Like his son, everything about him was crisp and soldierly. Dia imagined that he would have as little use for the hedonistic excesses that occupied the minds of the Emperor's courtiers as had her own father; idly, she wondered again what business this no-nonsense gentleman could have with the Kaerkas the Beast.

"And this, I fancy, must be my Lady Dia of Shae," he said, bowing to her with great dignity before strolling toward her in a leisurely fashion. "How do you do, my dear? Her Grace has been rather full of the prospect of entertaining you to midmeal, you know."

"Has she, your Grace?" Dia said, her smile almost shy. This Grand Duke of Aerandos reminded her forcibly of Lord Loraed, and she rather absurdly found herself wanting to win his approval. "I am very happy to meet you, sir."

His Grace paused by Lady Tamia. "Do give over rummaging about the trunks, my lady. Midmeal shall arrive at any time now, and you would not wish to sit down to table with all the dust of Aerandos on your hands," he said, perfectly seriously but with a teasing twinkle in his eye. Dia had a sudden conviction that Lord Caelon very much favored his sire. She looked over at him and was surprised to find herself the object of a sympathetically enquiring gaze.

_They are much like my own parents,_ she told him silently, not knowing quite why she fell impelled to say anything at all. _It must be lovely to be so happily mated._

_But why sound so wistful, my lady?_ he replied, once more surprising her. _Surely, you expect to be as content in your choice, once you have made it._

She smiled faintly, but prefaced her response with a sigh. _If I look wistfully, it is because I am surprised to find that I miss Lord Loraed and his lady rather more than I had thought to._ Then, shaking off her brief melancholy, she added. _You are a quick study, my lord. It took Phoebus quite some time to teach Daerus and I to direct our thoughts so precisely._

_I doubt there is any precision involved, my lady ... much as I hate to detract so from myself,_ he replied somewhat ruefully. _I would imagine I could not speak in this fashion with anyone else. I certainly have never done so before._

"Well, in that case," Lady Tamia was saying in response her husband's admonition, "I shall just run to my room and wash my hands. I shall return directly." And, with that, she bustled away.

Lord Saeros continued on his languid way across the room toward Dia, as Caelon said to him, "I am instructed to advise you, sir, that his Majesty desires you to attend him directly after midmeal."

"Indeed?" said his Grace, rather absently, taking Dia's hand. "Will you not be seated, my lady?" he asked politely, guiding her toward a chair.

Lord Caelon seemed to think this disinterested reply was amusing, for he grinned, adding, "He would know your decision, he says."

"Yes, I expect he would" said Lord Saeros pensively. Then he went on, to Dia, "You have a great look of your mother about you, my dear, as I expect my lady has already pointed out to you."

Dia could see that Lord Caelon wanted to further discuss his Grace's mysterious business with the Emperor, but was aware of a need for discretion. She could also see that the younger man was hard put to it to keep from bursting into laughter, but what his father was doing that tickled him so she could not guess. To his Grace, she replied with a saucy grin, "Indeed, she has. It is quite gratifying, you know, sir, because I have always thought my mother quite beautiful. I hope I shall not grow quite conceited."

Lord Saeros chuckled. Lord Caelon, apparently unable to contain himself another instant, said, "I beg your pardon, sir, but I was rather wondering myself how you meant to answer his Imperial Majesty."

Lord Saeros bent a sardonic eye upon his heir. "Yes, I expect you were," he said, "although I cannot imagine how it comes about that you thought to beguile our midmeal with such a dreary subject when we are entertaining a guest. I wonder where you can have learned your manners, boy."

This last proved too much for Lord Caelon's self control, and a laugh escaped him. "It would seem that I owe my lady an apology, although," and here he gave her such a wickedly quizzing look that she chuckled, "she already knows me for a churlish knave and surely cannot be surprised."

"To be sure, there is not the least need to beg my pardon, my lord," Dia said, grinning back at him, "and only think how such handsome behavior would spoil your image." Loftily ignoring Lord Caelon's shout of laughter, she added to his Grace, "I am only sorry that my presence prevents you from discussing such an important matter as your business here in the palace. I wonder if I should excuse myself to her Grace so that you may speak freely?"

"Indeed, and you shall do no such thing!" said Lady Tamia, sailing back into the sitting room at that moment. "What have the pair of you been saying to the child that she is ready to fly so soon?" she scolded the two gentlemen impartially.

"Why, nothing, my dear," replied Lord Saeros, mild as ever.

"Indeed?" her Grace retorted with heavy skepticism. "I leave her happily in your company for a mere two minutes, and when I return ... "

"As much as I hesitate to interrupt you, my lady," Lord Saeros interjected, "I wondered if you mean to scold us _very_ severely?" Lady Tamia did not immediately reply, merely regarding him with a smoldering, laughing eye. He continued, "If so, do you suppose you might feed us at the same time? For I perceive that our midmeal has arrived."

Instantly distracted, Lady Tamia hurried to the sitting room door and busily directed the Emperor's servants in the disposition of an appetizing meal, talking all the time. Considerably amused by the spousal exchange she had just witnessed, Dia watched her fondly. There was so much love and laughter in this apartment, among this family, that Dia felt both homesick and yet more comfortable than at any other time since she had set forth to join her brother here. She was certainly glad to have met the members of House Aerandos, feeling that they were much more her peers than the minor nobility that made up most of the Emperor's court. (Daerus' comment still rankled; her 'peers' indeed!) But, by the fires of the Phoenix, she would be ever so much happier when she could leave this place and go home!

"Well, my dear," Lady Tamia said, turning to Dia as the servants bowed themselves out of the room, "here is a tidy midmeal, to be sure. Will you take a little wine first?"

Dia accepted the wine with a smile and a mumbled word of thanks.

"I am so very disappointed that I have not been able to find that volume, dear," Lady Tamia went on. "I know that I promised to show it to you, and I am sure I had just been reading from it during the very tedious journey here. I have not the least doubt that I shall find it again just as soon as I no longer want it, for that is always the way of things, is it not?"

Dia grinned. "Indeed, I should not be at all surprised if you locate the wretched book in the instant I leave this room." Then her grin faded as she grew thoughtful. "I confess, I have some passing familiarity with the First Prophesies, you know, your Grace. I have been trying to remember if I have read the passage you mentioned, but I fear I cannot call it to mind just at this present."

"Do you know them?" said her Grace, looking surprised.

"My brother and I were tutored by the archpriest of the Phoenix who serves my father's estate, your Grace," Dia demurely explained, earning her an astonished glance from Lord Caelon and a wide smile from the Duchess.

"Your father keeps to the old ways, then? I have been trying to persuade my lord that we really should have an archpriest of the purple to serve us, but he does not bother his head with such foolishness." Lady Tamia looked over at her spouse with a roguish smile as she spoke.

Lord Saeros smiled back but, refusing the bait, he remained silent.

"But if you know the Prophesies, you must surely have read the passage I have in mind," her Grace continued. "Now let me see ... how did it begin? 'Two children shall be born in the same time ...' No ... that is not quite right ... "

Into the thoughtful pause that followed, as Dia wondered briefly why she could not seem to recall the passage in question -- there was a time when Phoebus had insisted that both she and her brother be able to recite the whole of the First Prophesy from memory -- and awaited her Grace's pleasure, a rolling, booming voice broke the silence.

"Behold!" It was Lord Caelon who spoke -- would he never cease to amaze her? -- his voice unnaturally loud, and with a strangely choral quality that did not sound at all like his usual quizzical tones. "Two children, born of a single Sun in a single House, shall command the Secrets from the instant of their births, for they shall be Our instrument in the confrontation between order and chaos. And when these two children shall come into their own, let this be a sign unto ye that the Gaerud approaches; gird ye well for the first battle of the New Age. Keep truth in thy heart and be steadfast in friendship and enmity, for this battle shall not be fought on any field on this world, but shall instead wage in the minds and hearts of those same children of Our hopes. And if the one does drown in darkness, shall this world perish and be no more. But, if the other does surrender to the light, then shall the fullness of Time be returned to its own and so shall the New Age be born."

Dia could do no more than gape at him. She knew his parents were staring as well. No one said anything.

Then, as he stood gazing into nothing, it seemed to Dia that he slowly became surrounded by a swirling cloud of light that seemed to fill her heart with hope and awe. _Who_ _ **are**_ _you?_ she asked into the silent vaults of her mind as she looked into his face, seeming to see it through a panorama of years, and feeling, without knowing why, that she was seeing her own future.

Lord Caelon, after a few more moments of staring wide-eyed at nothing, blinked. Then he looked at them, amusement slowly replacing bemusement, and said, "Now, why are you all staring at me so?"

No one seemed to feel equal to answering that question. If the Duchess' suspicions about the Shae twins were correct, then it was no matter for wonder that Dia should somehow be reminded of that Prophesy when the time came. But, she wondered, what had Lord Caelon to do with any of this? She supposed it ought not to matter who actually spoke the words; of much greater import was the fact that she should hear them. Yet, she could not rid herself of a strong presentiment that it was as important that she hear them _from_ Lord Caelon. She thrust that thought aside, to be considered later, and focused her attention on her present society.

Before anyone spoke, however, a new and much less friendly presence entered the room. Dia heard an angry wailing roar, as from a great distance, and the room was filled with that darkening chill that she was coming to recognize. All three Aerandosians felt it, too, she realized; they were looking around warily, seemingly acutely uncomfortable. Lord Saeros had automatically clapped a hand to his belt knife, Lord Caelon searched the room with narrowed, intent eyes, and Lady Tamia hugged herself and actually shivered. The presence grew stronger, moaning its hate and bearing its waves of cold despair. The room seemed to grow still darker, until Dia could "see" almost nothing. Blinded and feeling almost ill with dread, she unconsciously stepped closer to Lord Caelon. She hardly noticed that he had also taken a step in her direction, as if, all unknowing, they were closing ranks against the malevolent intruder. The enraged howl reached its zenith in a single, shrill scream before it began to fade, as if into some unimaginable distance.

And then, it was gone.

The four of them looked at each other cautiously. Finally, Lady Tamia spoke. "Caelon?" she said, placing a beseeching hand on his arm.

He ignored her, scowling at Dia. "What was it?" he demanded.

Dia shook her head, still bemused. "I do not know, Lord Caelon," she replied shakily. She wondered why he had asked her.

Lady Tamia seemed to wonder the same thing. "Indeed, Caelon, how _could_ she know?"

"I have only felt that thing twice," he said angrily, still staring at Dia, "and only in my lady's presence."

Lady Tamia gasped and Lord Saeros glowered at his son. But Dia only smiled. "I could, with perfect truthfulness, say the very same of you, my lord," she told him placidly.

"And that puts you in your place, my boy," said Lord Saeros. Then he turned to Dia. "My compliments, my lady. I beg you will forgive my son, who appears to be quite unnerved. Jesting aside, he is not usually so rag-mannered."

"Indeed, I do not mind, your Grace," said Dia, recovering and grinning with mischief. "I am much more interested in Lord Caelon's hitherto unsuspected reading habits. It would appear that he has been keeping secrets."

"Really, Caelon," agreed Lady Tamia warmly, "I had no notion you were so well acquainted with the First Prophesies! I wonder when you can have had a chance to study them, for I am sure you never asked to borrow mine?"

"Of course I have never read those curst prophesies," replied Lord Caelon furiously, "and I would thank my lady to stop trying to change the subject. I am sure she knows more of that strange visitation than she has seen fit to divulge."

"Enough, Caelon!" said Lord Saeros sternly. "I will not suffer any guest of mine, and particularly a daughter of Shae, to be insulted by your persistent suspicions."

There was a moment of tense silence. Dia wished she were a hundred leagues off, for she knew from experience just how mortifying such a public, parental reprimand could be. Lord Caelon seemed to master his temper with an understandable degree of difficulty before he bowed an apology to her. Dia, feeling uncomfortably that she had disturbed the affectionate tranquility of this little family, nodded her acceptance and was prepared to let the matter drop.

But Lord Caelon had not said all he had to say on the subject. _You are not being very forthcoming, my lady,_ he complained to her silently, his mental tone as grim as his expression.

Dia hesitated. _Truly, my lord, there is very little for me to tell you. This evil darkness threatens us both, I think,_ she said, as the notion occurred to her.

There was a distinct pause. _I see,_ he said, and she could sense that he was little more satisfied with that reply. _I can also see that you and I will need to have a very long talk sometime soon._

_I shall place myself at your disposal, my lord,_ she retorted primly.

A slightly skeptical laugh echoed in her head, and the sense of his presence was gone.

Midmeal was a rather subdued affair, for the strange visitation and the squabble in its aftermath had cast a pall over the company. Lord Caelon, who seemed to remember nothing of his foray into prophesy, ate in brooding silence and did not appear to see either the oddly smug glance of his mother or the speculative eyes of his sire. Dia thought perhaps they would feel more comfortable discussing the incident among themselves in private, and wondered again if she ought to make some excuse to return to her own rooms. Honesty compelled her to admit to herself that she did not want to leave and, before she could convince herself that it would be the honorable thing to do, the gentlemen had excused themselves and gone off to attend the Emperor.

Once the door had closed gently behind them, Lady Tamia cast a single, uncertain glance at Dia. What she saw evidently satisfied her, for she suddenly grinned, eyes twinkling. "I had feared that you would make some excuse to hurry off to your own chambers, my dear," she said.

Dia smiled. "Not at all," she replied politely. "Rather, I was regretting that I should have disrupted the harmony of your family, however briefly."

"Nonsense, my dear. Surely, you must know that these little family spats are so common as to be almost unnoticeable. I own, I could wish that Saeros -- well, never mind that," she interrupted herself hurriedly. "I had much rather ask you about that peculiar interlude just before midmeal. What did you make of it, my dear? I am very sure that Caelon spoke nothing but the truth when he declared that he had never read the Prophesies."

"From what I have seen of him," Dia replied, laughing lightly, "I am much inclined to agree, your Grace. It would seem, for reasons unknown to us both, that Lord Caelon was chosen to reveal the Words to us at that Time."

"One is lead to infer that the Lord of Chaos was displeased about it, as well," Lady Tamia murmured thoughtfully. Then she glanced at her young guest, her eyes suddenly shrewd and the chattering, fluttery manner she had adopted gone. "I've a notion that there is a great deal going on beneath the surface of this palace, and that there is much you could share with us if you chose," she went on. "Caelon's manners may have left much to be desired, child, but I fancy he had reason to think he could look to you for an explanation."

Dia thought in some amusement that almost no one in this blighted palace was what they seemed.

"I will not press you, my dear," her Grace continued when Dia hesitated, "for the matter seems to be one of some delicacy. Indeed, I ought rather to be wondering how my Caelon comes to be involved in the matter." She paused, watching her young guest. "Is he in danger?" she asked suddenly.

"Oh, I do not think he can be, your Grace," Dia replied, with as much sincerity as she could muster. Merciful Phoenix, what must Lady Tamia be thinking of her?

"Are you?" her Grace asked with uncharacteristic bluntness.

"I do not think so," she replied with almost as much truth. She certainly did not seem to be in any physical danger, in any event.

"Very well, my dear," Lady Tamia said, apparently satisfied. "No doubt we will speak of it another time. I must confess, I have been longing to get you alone since I remembered that passage from the First Prophesies, to ask you if you and your brother are those twin children."

Dia chuckled. "Now, how could I know that, Lady Tamia?" she asked.

The Duchess laughed with her. "Yes, a rather odd question to put to you, now I come to think on it. But _are_ you skilled in the Secrets?" After a moment's hesitation, Dia nodded slowly. "I can understand why you would not wish to publish that news abroad and you may rely upon my discretion, my dear. I hope very much that you are and I think you must be. Your twin brother, if you do not mind my saying so, certainly seems to me to be quite as drowned in darkness as any priest could wish. And you ... "

Dia waited.

"Yes, indeed, you must be," Lady Tamia said with slow thoughtfulness, although Dia was convinced that her Grace had caught herself on the brink of unwise speech, "for only consider what has happened just this midmeal. If Caelon has sustained a visitation from the Prophesy, it must certainly be for the purpose of giving instruction to _you_. And shall we ever forget Lord Septha's anger, once you had received that message?" Lady Tamia paused to take Dia's hand in hers. "Remains now only to learn if you are prepared for whatever your task may be. You will not face it alone, you know. I am a true daughter of the Ages and I will stand by you if you find yourself in need of aid."

Dia's eyes widened in unfeigned astonishment. A daughter of the Ages? "It is you?" Lady Tamia merely smiled and did not reply. "It is you! But how does it come about that an archpriestess of the purple is Grand Duchess of Aerandos?"

"I was not yet an archpriestess, to be quite candid," her Grace corrected her, "although I expect I would have been by now. Ageless Phoenix foresaw that I would best serve my Time by leaving the Temple and returning to my family. No doubt He foresaw as well that I should fall in love with Saeros and marry. I never knew why that should be necessary -- until now."

"So you have been protecting your husband and your son from this awful darkness that is everywhere in the palace?" Dia did not even bother to ask if Lady Tamia had perceived that darkness; as a former TimeKeeper, it must be easily apparent to her.

"Well, that is another interesting thing," she said, eyeing Dia consideringly. "I have certainly been able to shield Saeros from the darkness, but for Caelon, my aid was not needed. No, my dear, I do not know why that should be. I own, I was rather hoping you would be able to tell me. Well, never mind. I expect we shall find out all about it in its own Time. It bodes well for my ambitions for the upcoming Gaerud." Another of her impish smiles curved the Duchess' lips as she added, "Indeed, I hope very much that I shall be able to participate, for the coming of a New Age does not happen every day."

Dia smiled rather absently, hesitating. When she spoke, it was with some difficulty. "I do not know if Daerus and I are the Chosen of that Prophesy, your Grace. The notion had never occurred to me. I will confess that I am concerned about my brother. He seems ... changed somehow. He is my twin and we have always been so very close, but now he seems a stranger." Her voice shook as, for the first time, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that Daerus might be lost to her forever. Lady Tamia patted her hand. "I think there is someone or something of great power tampering with his mind. Indeed, I know it, for I have been coming under attack from that same source since I came here." Here Dia paused to consider sharing the remedy she had discovered but she rapidly decided to keep that knowledge to herself for now. Instead, she merely shook her head, adding, "It would seem that this mysterious wielder of darkness whom I have been trying to unmask is none other than Septha Himself but, in truth, I have no notion of what any of this may have to do with the return of the Phoenix."

"Very likely not, for these things never happen in the way one expects," the Duchess said comfortingly. "I was used to think, you know, that Prophesy was designed to make life dreadfully dull, for if one knows the future then there are none of the surprises that often make things interesting. But I have come to see, as I have studied the Gaeruds, that the Prophesies tell what _will_ happen but they do not tell _how_. That discovery relieved my mind enormously, you know."

Dia laughed shakily. "Now, I wonder why that should be?" she mused, eager to direct their talk into less personal channels.

"It is because of the Gaeruds, my dear," Lady Tamia explained, her eyes wise. "Septha the Destroyer and Ageless Phoenix always choose instruments of the Gaerud from among the people of this world, you know, and the instruments of the Destroyer are forever cheating. Considering what is at stake, it is really quite shocking!"

"Considering what is at stake, it would be even more shocking if the Destroyer's minions did _not_ cheat, would it not?" Dia ventured.

"Perhaps, my dear, but really, for all his faults, Septha _is_ a God. You would think he would at least be a _gentleman_. Now," and with that, Lady Tamia briskly changed the subject, "we shall leave such dismal subjects for another time and you shall give me your opinion of Caelon."

Dia blinked. "My opinion of him?" she repeated in some confusion.

"Yes, I know what you are thinking, and it is terrible but true that when a young lady reaches a certain age, everyone she meets will want to talk to her about some young gentleman or another."

For everything she held dear, Dia could not have contained the laugh that escaped her. "I beg your pardon, your Grace," she apologized. "I am very little acquainted with Lord Caelon, but I think I could like him very well. It is a very great pity that he seems predisposed to regard me with suspicion."

"Oh, dear!" said her Grace, looking stricken. "I had wondered if you had taken that amiss but you answered his questions so very calmly that I supposed you never gave the matter a thought. He does have a rather cynical streak, my dear, and I cannot imagine where he came by it. Unless ... Do you suppose it is a result of his military endeavors?"

This was the first time that Dia had heard that army life engendered skepticism in young men, but she did not point that out. "Well, ma'am, as to that I could not say, but I am sure I have only to continue to behave in my usual, irreproachable fashion and Lord Caelon's suspicions will soon be laid to rest," was Dia's cheerful reply.

Lady Tamia giggled. "Yes, and that is precisely the right tone to take with the boy. I must say it is a great relief to know that you have a sense of humor. Otherwise, I would think you must find him quite unbearable."

That set Dia off again but, once she had had her laugh out, she prudently turned their talk to other matters.

Dia's conversation with her Grace was refreshingly merry, at times riotous, and the time seemed to fly. When the gentlemen returned from their imperial audience, Dia excused herself to change for endmeal which, Lady Tamia informed her firmly, she would take with them. "You will be much more comfortable with me, my dear," the Duchess said kindly, "for, if you will forgive me for saying so, your brother does not seem to give much thought to either your safety or your virtue ."

"Indeed, he has proved completely useless, your Grace," said Dia, who was not in the least bit worried about either her safety or her virtue, but had her own reasons for wanting to stay close to the party from Aerandos, "and I shall be thankful for your escort."

"Excellent, my dear," said the Duchess, looking so smug about these arrangements that Dia began to regard her with acute, if good humored, suspicion.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Saeros outsmarts his emperor and Caelon finds amusement in the palace.

In company with his father, Caelon strode through the palace halls on his way to the throne room. He knew he ought, in truth, to be focused upon the upcoming meeting with Emperor Kaerkas but the strange interlude just before lunch still disturbed him.

He could not tell if Lady Dia were being honest or not when she implied that the dark and deadly chill he had experienced today for the second time was not somehow her doing. Of course, he knew he had no real reason to imagine that hers might be the hand at work. Yet, he could not rid himself of the feeling that it did have very much to do with her. The only question he really needed to answer was whether she was the potential threat or the potential victim.

He could not have explained to anyone, including himself, the peculiar attraction she held for him. Not that she was not worthy of attention, for the lady was remarkably beautiful. But Caelon, no novice to amorous adventures, did not recognize what he was feeling as a prelude to a fit of gallantry. In fact, he would have described it as something much more primitive and primal than that; along the order of instinct rather than attraction. He had a notion, conceived last endmeal and reinforced when he had fetched her to his mother's apartments before midmeal, that presenting himself at her door on a regular basis after she had retired would place a severe strain on his self-control.

Caelon acknowledged to himself that he had somehow encountered something that seemed both powerful and pervasive in the person of Dia of Shae. The fact that he could not satisfactorily explain that something to himself was excessively irksome. And then, there was this ability he had suddenly acquired to listen to the thoughts of another, to carry on a conversation without speaking. Septha take the curst woman, anyway; what had she done to him? He was a soldier, scorch it! Everything he thought he knew about the world he lived in seemed to have been challenged recently, beginning with the strange bond he had unwittingly formed with this daughter of Shae.

Suddenly, he became aware that his father was addressing him. "This is not the time for woolgathering, my boy," Lord Saeros said, regarding his heir with all his usual calm shrewdness. "No doubt you will sort it all out later. For now, I require your attention."

They had reached the massive double doors of the Emperor's throne room and Caelon, as he always did, straightened himself with military discipline at his father's words, and put those puzzles away from his mind.

Lord Saeros had not confided his plans to his son, but Caelon was not particularly surprised by that. Lord Saeros almost never did warn Caelon in advance of what he meant to do. His Grace, when a much younger Caelon had remonstrated with him about that, had informed his son that he would be of little use in the field if he could not accustom himself to decisive action in the face of unexpected events. Caelon could understand the rationale behind this behavior but, he owned privately, he sometimes wished that Lord Saeros were occasionally willing to put aside being a general in favor of simply being a father.

At that moment, the door opened and a herald announced the Grand Duke Saeros of Aerandos and Colonel Lord Caelon of Aerandos. Those two gentlemen strode into the room, halting when they had reached the foot of the throne, and bowed deeply.

"Ha! Saeros!" uttered his Imperial Majesty.

"Sire," Lord Saeros said, "you wished to see me?"

"I want your decision, Saeros," the Emperor said without preamble.

"I have considered the matter carefully, your Majesty," his Grace told the Emperor, "and I am persuaded that you have no need of the entire army of Aerandos in this part of the Empire. Moreover, while it is plain to me that the imperial corps would benefit from improvements in training, you do not really need my presence here in the palace in order to give the proper orders and see that they are carried out." He smiled ruefully. "It also has come to my notice that certain members of the General Staff have no wish to see me elevated to a position in which I have authority over them."

The Emperor, who seemed to sense that he was about to be thwarted, turned an alarming shade of red. "So," he said ominously, his eyes beginning to bulge, "you say you will withhold both your counsel and your troops from the services of your Emperor when we has need of them?"

"Not at all, your Majesty," Lord Saeros replied smoothly. "It may very well be that the imperial troops would indeed benefit from example. As I say, however, I do not think that you will require the _entire_ army of Aerandos."

"And what of you, Saeros?" asked the Emperor broodingly. "Do you mean to leave me with troops but with no leadership? That will not suit the purpose at all." He did not give Lord Saeros time to reply but gestured to a waiting flunky and sent him off to summon General Kraetus.

"By no means, your Imperial Majesty," Lord Saeros answered the Emperor's question. "I expect I can remain here and give the necessary orders at least until I am required to return north by reason of the imminence of HighSun." The Emperor's expression of smug satisfaction faded noticeably when his Grace added, "I cannot think, however, that I need be involved much with the General Staff."

It was unfortunate that, at that moment, the door to the audience chamber opened once again and General Kraetus stepped inside in the wake of the herald preparing to announce him. The General was thus privileged to hear the Emperor's reply perfectly clearly. "Great Chaos, Saeros, how can you mean to leave me saddled with my current staff? All one need do is take a look at the imperial army to realize that they cannot be any but the most complete dolts!"

"General Kraetus," announced the herald morosely.

The General strode forward, his face an impassive mask. "Your Imperial Majesty," he said, bowing.

The Emperor nodded to this greeting shortly. "Ah, Kraetus," Lord Saeros said to the general cordially, affecting not to see the malevolent stare that gentleman was directing at him. "Your arrival is timely. Possibly you can assist me in persuading his Majesty that the General Staff has no need of my advice."

"I am not so quick to contradict my Emperor," the General muttered, much to Caelon's astonishment. "I feel sure he knows better than you or I what is required to improve his army."

That Kaerkas the Beast had never either trained or commanded troops must be obvious to anyone who had listened to his initial proposal, thought Caelon. Yet, Lord Saeros never batted an eyelash. "Your faith in your Emperor is commendable, sir. However," and he turned back to the Emperor, "I must take exception to your assessment of the General Staff, Your Majesty. Indeed, I know them for highly competent military men. They will, if they wish, have the assistance of my sergeants with the day-to-day disciplining of the imperial troops. But they can have no need of my advice and I have no wish to lord it over them so."

"You become womanish in your concern for the sensibilities of my generals, Saeros," said the Emperor blightingly. "I am finding it tiresome."

"Forgive me, my leige," Lord Saeros apologized smoothly. "I have some experience in attempting to direct reluctant troops. It is not an experience I care to repeat if I can avoid it, particularly not with generals."

"And, what is this? A few paltry regiments?" Emperor Kaerkas was asking suddenly, as if he had only just realized what his Grace had said. "Is that the best you can offer to your Emperor? What good do you imagine a few regiments will do?"

"Since their purpose here will be in the nature of aides to the training of your own army, Sire, I would imagine that they will do admirably well," was his Grace's bland reply, which almost caused Caelon to betray himself with a grin. "After all, they will not be required to invade any of our neighbors, so you will not be needing more of them."

Emperor Kaerkas opened his mouth to speak but Prince Maermat, leaving his sister's side with an alacrity that Caelon found excessively interesting, interceded quickly. "Indeed, your plans sound excellently well thought out, your Grace. I must confess, I am relieved that you have discovered a solution to my father's need." Then, he turned to his obviously seething parent. "Of course, we cannot hold Lord Saeros here when he has urgent matters to tend at Aerandos, Father," he said in a peculiar tone of voice that was half soothing and half commanding. "And I feel sure that his Grace can set matters here in motion in enough time to enable him to return to Aerandos before HighSun."

Lord Saeros bowed acknowledgement of the Prince's intervention, before addressing himself to the Emperor. "If my proposal is acceptable to your Majesty, I shall immediately send word for some few regiments to set forth for the palace at once."

Emperor Kaerkas fixed the Grand Duke with a smoldering eye, an expression on his face that would have been called pouting in a less exalted personage. "Very well, Saeros," he said finally. "I shall accept these few regiments -- for the moment. For the rest of it, while we await the arrival of these few soldiers from the north, you shall attend me at all meetings of the General Staff. Is that clear?"

"Certainly, Sire," said his Grace. Only Caelon was aware of the faint sigh that accompanied Lord Saeros' words.

"And I shall expect you to do more than sit mute and worry yourself about the wounded sentiments of my generals," added the Emperor.

"As you wish, Sire," said his Grace with a bow that concluded the audience.

Once they had left the audience chamber, Caelon turned a wryly amused eye upon his father. "One wonders just how he will attempt to inviegle you into bringing the rest of our forces south, for it is quite plain that he had set his heart on acquiring our entire army for his personal use."

"Indeed," Lord Saeros replied, still in that bland tone, "it will be interesting to observe his method." He smiled faintly when Caelon snorted cynically. "Never underestimate the value in learning the way your adversary's mind works."

Caelon digested that in silence for a few moments. "Do you count the Emperor your adversary, then?" he asked, speaking too softly to be overheard.

"Not at all, my dear boy," Lord Saeros replied instantly, "although I have a notion that he counts me as his. No, it is merely that I have something he seems to want. You will note that he did not order me to hand the army over to him, even though, as my Emperor, he might be forgiven for attempting to do so. It would appear that he -- or someone -- perceives the need to handle me carefully."

"Yes," Caelon agreed thoughtfully, "the tone Maermat takes with his father does cause one to wonder which of them is running the Empire."

"Why, I can say quite truthfully that I feel some sympathy for the Emperor, to be saddled with an impudent heir," his Grace said, loftily ignoring Caelon's chuckle. "So you made note of young Maermat's manner as well?"

"How could one escape noting it?"

Lord Saeros replied with a satisfied grunt before returning to the subject at hand. "So far, we have seen that care of me involves flattery and appeals to my ego -- weaknesses which his Highness assumes I am prey to, but which, sadly for him, I am not. I shall shortly provide an opportunity for all parties involved see whether Prince Maermat considers it worth his while to handle you as carefully as they have tried to handle me. Then, we shall see what he imagines _your_ weaknesses to be."

"I could venture a few guesses on that score. And why are we so interested in what they imagine our weaknesses to be?" Caelon asked, intrigued as always by the complex mind of his father.

"Because, my boy, they make assumptions about our weaknesses based upon their own," Lord Saeros told him promptly, amusement lighting his eyes, "as surely you have already surmised."

"And how do propose to provide this opportunity, sir? Will you, in fact, be removing from the scene?" Caelon asked, noting but not commenting on the oblique reprimand. "It seems strangely unlike you."

Lord Saeros chuckled but did not reply, saying instead, "As to that, I am not wholly convinced that care of me is what is intended."

"Indeed, sir?" Caelon asked.

"Well, it certainly has not escaped _my_ attention," Lord Saeros said pointedly, "that twice now my Emperor has created an occasion to inform the head of his General Staff that he is incompetent and I am not. It is not the way I would choose to introduce anyone to someone he is then expected to work with."

"Yes, sir," Caelon said meekly, "I confess I was surprised at his Majesty's lack of discretion -- and even more surprised at General Kraetus' lack of protest."

"Kraetus does not protest _openly_ ," corrected his Grace. "Unless I much mistake the matter ... "

"Impossible," Caelon interjected with grinning impudence.

"I shall soon be made to feel his displeasure," his Grace went on, ignoring the interruption.

At that, Caelon frowned. "It is to be hoped that his displeasure does not take too violent a form," he said thoughtfully.

"It is even more to be hoped that that is not precisely what his Majesty intends," said Lord Saeros calmly.

"Indeed," Caelon agreed emphatically, wondering once again what, exactly, Lord Saeros was thinking. "Wither away, sir?" he then asked when he realized that his father was not immediately returning to their rooms.

"We shall see about sending one of my men off with a message for Colonel Braeden and then we shall explore whichever of the splendid amusements the palace has to offer at this time of day catches our fancy."

At that, Caelon frankly laughed. "What amusements does this palace _ever_ have to offer, sir?"

"Come, my boy, surely we will be able to find something with which to occupy ourselves."

"Why do we not simply return to my mother?"

"Because I have no wish to interrupt her visit with her young friend," Lord Saeros said, again with that faint smile. "Really, lad, do you want to spend the next few hours listening to my lady giggling? Now, pull yourself together. It will never do for the men to witness Saeros' heir grinning like a moonling."

 

When the gentlemen finally returned to Lady Tamia's sitting room, she informed them cordially that Lady Dia would be returning to join them for endmeal. Caelon took this news in very good part, even though he was thoroughly familiar with the glint in his mother's eye. He accepted her efforts at matchmaking much as he accepted everything else about her and was only left to wonder if my lady was a party to this plot. He rather fancied it would be very unlike her, and found himself looking forward to some very good sport.

Lady Dia rather quickly fell in with her Grace's notion that she should spend most of her time with the House of Aerandos and, from then on, arrived in his mother's sitting room just before each midmeal. As often as not, Caelon did not see her then, for he was much involved in attending the Grand Duke at seemingly constant meetings of the Imperial General Staff. Not much was accomplished at these meetings; the generals could not seem to agree on even the necessity of establishing a regular training routine. Caelon wondered how Kaerkas had managed to saddle himself with a pack of commanders who were so concerned with their own personal power and proximity to the throne that none of them seemed able to focus upon the requirements of maintaining an effective fighting force. He would have found the frequent gatherings unbearably tedious if it were not for his ever-wayward sense of humor, for the speed with which Kaerkas' generals found reasons to reject even the mildest and most insignificant of suggestions from Lord Saeros tickled him.

He did, however, regularly act as Lady Dia's escort to endmeal, staying by her until she had been safely escorted to her rooms and had shared a handclasp with him. What benefit she derived from their frequent, tactile contact she never said. Caelon could easily feel strange bond produced when their hands met, and very pleasant he found it, but to Lady Dia it must have been vastly more important than a means of simply tickling her senses. He would have been hard put to it to have described her response to his touch: a profound relief, a relaxing of an almost unconscious tension, a release from an unnamed fear, and something else to which he could not have put a name. Whatever was happening between them, she seemed to need it and to be genuinely grateful for it. And, as much from innate kindness as from the dictates of his pledged honor, Caelon made it his business to somehow touch her hand every time he saw her, anywhere in the palace.

In time, of course, the Emperor's court began to notice the very particular attentions that Lord Caelon of Aerandos was paying to Lady Dia of Shae. Rumor was rife, whispers abounded, and stares accompanied them whenever they appeared together in the public parts of the building. To Caelon's amused interest, Lady Dia greeted the gossip with a rather contradictory mixture of mortification and indifference. While she was clearly not enjoying the notoriety she was acquiring, neither did she at any time even hint that she wished to dispense with their frequent handclasps.

Among the many eyes turned in his direction were those of Prince Maermat, Princess Kera and Lord Daerus of Shae. Unlike the courtiers, however, Caelon perceived that these onlookers were not idly curious but seriously concerned and more than a little hostile to his attentions to Lady Dia. While Lord Daerus' antagonism toward a gentleman whose gallantry had made his sister the talk of the palace was understandable, Caelon was at something of a loss to account for the interest of the Imperial siblings. It was not until he had had an opportunity to observe, unnoticed, Prince Maermat trying unsuccessfully and rather laboriously to get up a flirtation with the lady that he understood and, from the moment he made that discovery, his enjoyment of his situation was assured. With a sad want of chivalry, he soon began to imbue the act of bowing over Lady Dia's hand with as much innuendo as one could with so commonplace a gesture.

Lady Dia was, of course, inspired to protest the extravagance with which he greeted her. "Does it not bother you to be the object of so much curiosity, my lord?" she asked him in exasperation as he escorted her to midmeal, which he occasionally did.

"I think you do yourself an injustice, my lady," he told her, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "Surely, the fixed glances you have noticed are admiration rather than speculation."

"I pray you will not talk such nonsense, my lord," she said briskly after a pregnant pause. He wondered, as he often did, whether she was _really_ debating the relative merits of offering violence to his person, r whether those vivid images in her mind were purely for his edification. "And I very much wish that you would restrain yourself when next we meet. _You_ may be enjoying the scrutiny but, frankly, I am not."

"Really, my lady," he protested, "how _could_ you imagine that I would do anything so ungallant as to suggest to all the interested spectators that I am less than enthralled with you?"

He watched her sternly suppress laughter. "It would serve you very well indeed if I did marry you, my lord," she told him smolderingly.

Such a caveat very naturally made Caelon laugh heartily. "What a dreadful thing to threaten a man with!" he said, when he could speak at all. "Really, my lady, I am sur ...," his voice trailed off as he stared down the corridor.

His father had come down the hall toward them, stopped at his mother's sitting room door, and had then paused as he made note of their approach. At this time of year, as HighSun steadily approached, the halls of the palace were never well lit. Now, however, the ever-present shadows seemed full of menace. Lady Dia seemed to sense it as well, for her eyes were narrowed suspiciously and darting about the shadows.

Abruptly, several things seemed to happen at once. Shadows began to move, resolving themselves into four men brandishing swords and menacingly approaching Lord Saeros. Almost instantly, even as Caelon started forward wondering furiously what they could do with belt daggers against four swords, two of them fell, one with a jewelled dagger hilt protruding from his forehead and the other from a dagger in the side of his neck.

"Caelon!" he heard Lady Dia call to him urgently. He glanced toward her. Something was hurling out of the shadows toward him and, when he instinctively put out an arm to protect himself, found that his hand closed on the sword she had expertly tossed him. Now properly armed, he closed the distance between himself and his father's attackers and engaged one of them. My lady, meanwhile, had scooped up the other discarded sword and circled around to confront the last ruffian herself.

It was all over in moments. The fellow Caelon faced was a competent enough swordsman but Caelon, a professional soldier with a great deal of incentive, easily outmatched him. He dispatched the ambusher quickly, eager to go to Lady Dia's aid, and whirled in time to see her wrench her blade from her adversary's chest.

My lady stared down at the crumpled, bloody bodies for a moment. Then she tossed her borrowed blade down before the man she had just felled, making of it a gesture of purest contempt, before turning icy grey eyes toward him. _I hate assassins_ , she told him silently.

_You have had much experience of them?_ he asked her.

_Not until now,_ she replied.

Caelon turned to his father. "Are you well, sir?" he asked in some concern.

"Very well, I thank you," Lord Saeros replied, thoughtfully eying the corpses littering the hallway. "Accept my compliments; your arrival was fortuitous. And my thanks to you, as well, my lady," he addressed himself to Lady Dia, who was retrieving her daggers. "I had not realized that young ladies still trained in the warlike arts."

That made her grin. "Many of them do not, your Grace," she replied. Then she shrugged. "I do not like this new fashion of selecting a champion; I find it to my advantage to fight my own battles. Unlike the cur who hired this lot," she added, her grin fading.

"Indeed," agreed Lord Saeros impassively, his eyes twinkling.

The unhappiness of most of the imperial generals with the addition of His Grace of Aerandos to their number was suddenly no longer amusing. That they did not dare take their plaint to their Emperor was not entirely unexpected. But, Caelon had assumed that those gentlemen would indulge in the usual political maneuvering in order to have Lord Saeros removed from his advisory position; in spite of his recent conversation with his father, it had not seriously occurred to him that they might elect to simply have him murdered. "So it begins," he murmured, fixing his sire with a fierce gaze.

"Aye, so it does," Lord Saeros agreed again.

Lady Dia looked from one of them to the other, opened her mouth to speak and then apparently changed her mind. Finally, she said, "It would appear that you both have some notion of who might be behind this attack, and why. I have no wish to pry, your Grace, but clearly you would do well to look to your defenses. Calm acceptance is surely better than panic, but I hope you will not take this incident lightly."

"You are very right, my lady, but there is no need to disturb yourself," he Grace told her kindly.

"Yes, Father," said Caelon, with determined patience, "it is all very well to tell us not to concern ourselves about it but, if we had not happened along at just that moment, you would likely not have survived this encounter."

"Very likely not," and with that, his Grace fixed both young people with a stern eye. "I wish you will tell me why the pair of you must needs instruct me in the obvious? Lady Dia, I make allowance for your slight acquaintance with me but you, my lad, really ought to know better."

Caelon, his concern causing him to rapidly lose patience with his tight-lipped sire, was about to reply until he saw my lady flush scarlet. "I beg your pardon, your Grace," she muttered, mortification in her tone.

"Never mind, my dear," said Lord Saeros, taking her hand and patting it soothingly, "come along inside now. I expect her Grace is wondering what has become of us. You, no doubt, would like a chance to wash your hands before midmeal and," here, his Grace paused to glance with faint disapproval at the blood-spattered hall, "I really must ring for a servant to tidy this corridor. Shall we ... ?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dia contemplates bringing her visit to the imperial palace to a close.

As the season wore on and the sun inexorably climbed higher in the sky, Dia continued to divide her time between Ormaer and Aerandos. Her schedule suited her well enough and she derived a certain malicious enjoyment from watching her brother all but gnash his teeth in frustration. All his attempts to intervene in her growing relationship with and affection for Aerandos had met with failure as, for the first time in his life, Daerus found himself coming into conflict with the obstinacy their parents knew so well.

Dia could not tell if she was growing used to the terrible darkness that had seemed so frighteningly irresistible when she had first encountered it, or if the antidote she had found had caused it to grow less effective every time she grasped Lord Caelon's hand. However it may have been, she could still see and feel that ever-present darkness that surrounded the imperial court, but it no longer had the ability to smother her senses.

In some ways, she was sorry for it. Uncomfortable that mental fog may have been, but it would have been a splendid buffer against the frustrated or even worried stares and whispered conversations between her brother and his beloved. It might even have rendered Prince Maermat's tediously heavy-handed wooing rather more bearable. She could not tell whether the Prince was in earnest or merely attempting alleviate boredom. She conceived a notion that his Imperial Highness was, in fact, a rather shy young man whose position had forced him to conceal or conquer his self-consciousness as best he could. He generally managed to do so quite effectively, but idle flirtations, or even the earnest courtship of a young lady, still seemed to betray him into awkwardness. Indeed, she felt rather sorry for him, but still she found his attentions wearisome and wished he would find another object for his gallantry.

"Tell me, my lady," he said to her one morning, "are you at all ambitious?"

"Ambitious?" she repeated in some surprise. "How so, your Highness?"

"Do you aspire to hold a great position in the Empire?"

She stared at him for a full minute, deliberately calming herself before answering. "I am a daughter of Shae, your Highness," she said with quiet pride. "I do not think I need aspire any higher than that."

"Oh, of course, of course," he acknowledged hurriedly, nodding. "And, yet, do you not think that a daughter of Shae would be more than fitting to be a wife of Ormaer?"

"Certainly, Highness," she replied, placidly, "but I am not on the hunt for a husband."

"Nonsense, my lady," Prince Maermat argued. "Somehow I cannot see you dwindling into spinsterhood, hanging on your brother's sleeve."

"Very likely not," she said, unable to contain her amusement. "Poor Daerus! In any event, I am sure that my parents and my brother share the hope that I shall meet many suitable gentlemen among his Majesty's court and shall receive an acceptable offer from among them."

"And do you expect such an offer?"

Again, she fixed him with a level stare. Imperial prince or no, the fellow was mightily impertinent. "Really, Prince Maermat, you take an inordinate interest in my matrimonial prospects!" she finally protested.

"I take an interest in everything about you, my lady," he replied meaningfully, his speculative gaze holding hers.

"How very dull that must be for you!" Dia said cheerfully, hoping to douse some of his ardor. His Highness, in Dia's opinion, had all the subtlety of an enraged bull.

She said as much to her brother some days later, as they walked together toward the Emperor's audience chamber, adding, "I have no notion of what he may mean by such oppressive gallantry, but I do wish he would stop."

"Why should he?" Daerus asked her. "Just think what a splendid Empress you would make! I feel certain that you would be gratified by occupying such a high station. And," he added with considerable asperity, "I was being perfectly serious, so you need not stand about chortling in that ill-bred way!"

"Daerus, I refuse to argue with you," Dia managed to say, still laughing. "Only know that I have no wish to be further embarrassed by his Highness, and not the least ambition to be an Empress. One of us marrying into the imperial family is quite enough."

"No ambition to be an Empress?" he repeated in the greatest astonishment. "What can you mean?"

"Well, what do you suppose me to mean, Daerus?" she asked, still amused. "Can it be that you are surprised to discover that I have no imperial aspirations?" Then, curious, she asked, "I can accept that you have been changed by your sojourn at court, but must it follow that you no longer remember the character of your twin?"

"No, of course not," he said -- a little too quickly, she thought. "But you are Shae, Dia. You cannot wed a _nobody._ Or do you mean to be wed, then, into Aerandos?" he went on, suddenly suspicious. "Is that why you are so assiduous in your attentions to Lady Tamia?"

"In the expectation of receiving an offer from her?" asked Dia, lifting a brow. "I fear that would not be at all the thing, you know."

"Dia ... !"

"I _like_ her, dear. Indeed, I like all of House Aerandos that I have met so far. Lady Tamia and her lord remind me forcibly of my own parents, you know." She sighed wistfully. " _How_ pleased I shall be to see them again!"

Into the brief silence that followed that nostalgic remark -- to which, she noted with interest, he made no sort of reply -- Daerus asked in a determinedly casual tone, "By the by, _are_ you anticipating an offer from Caelon of Aerandos?" Dia found it excessively curious that Daerus seemed to be growing ... really, there was no other word for it but _nervous_... about that possibility.

She sighed wearily. "No."

"There has been a great deal of talk, you know, my dear."

"It is not like you to listen to the gossip-mongers, my dear."

"You are certainly spending a great deal of time with Lord Caelon."

"I am spending a great deal of time with his mother, Daerus."

His mother, her Grace of Aerandos, was making no attempt to hide from the world her delight at the prospect of Dia as a marriage-daughter. _(Really,_ she thought, _is there no one in the capital who is not preoccupied with who I may take to husband?_ ) Dia knew of that lady's scheming and so, judging from the cynical smile with which he sometimes observed their chats, did Lord Caelon. That was certainly bad enough, but Dia had a notion that his lordship thought her in league with his mother, and that vexed her almost beyond bearing. She had not spoken of it to him; the subject was a matter of considerable embarrassment to her and she dreaded broaching it because she knew, if he did harbor such doubts, that she had no way to counter them. Still, if she could not defend herself against unvoiced suspicions, she could take great care to do nothing to lend weight to them.

Such a course of action was not easiest to accomplish when the entire palace seemed rife with conjecture about the pair. Dia, in a fair-minded spirit, acknowledged that the speculation was undoubtedly fed by his lordship's habit of pausing at her door just before retiring to his chambers for his rest. Lord Caelon had scrupulously kept his word to her, shaking her hand whenever he met her in the palace, and appearing at her door after she had left the endmeal frolic to share a handclasp. He had not questioned her about this ritual, for which she was thankful. She knew that he felt the same power she did in the contact, and she was certain she would be unable to explain it to his satisfaction. Indeed, each time she felt the strangely compelling power that fortified her and strengthened the growing bond between them, she found herself unable even to explain the matter to herself. Yet, when she considered how little she had told him of her situation, she realized that she owed him a long explanation.

Meanwhile, Dia had long since suspected that her brother's frequent goading had come about because losing her temper would somehow make her more vulnerable to the power of the darkness. Her counter-strategy was very simple; she took a page from dear Phoebus' book and strove to remain calm whatever the provocation. She had no way of knowing whether or not Daerus had guessed that his clumsiness had betrayed him, but she did notice that eventually he stopped baiting her. Dia, not for an instant imagining that would be the end of it, now awaited his next move.

He did not realize it but her twin was running out of time. Dia had every intention of bringing her visit to a close within the next few wakings, before the sun had climbed high enough to make travel impossible. And why, it suddenly occurred to her to wonder, was it so important to ensnare _her_? Daerus had given her only the rather implausible explanation that, as his twin, she had always been with him and must remain with him as he walked his dark path. When she had expressed her dissatisfaction with that rationale, he had refused to explain further. Odd, that. Well, she had grown perfectly willing to allow Septha and His instruments to dip their evil fingers into the mind of her twin, if only they would leave her alone.

She shook her head at her own thoughts. In truth, Dia was a little ashamed of herself, for honesty compelled her to admit that she had not tried very hard to get through to Daerus. She could offer in her own defense that she had been busily trying to preserve her own mind and had little leisure to try to reclaim his. Besides, how was she to free him of the darkness when he seemed so enamored of it? He would fight her every inch of the way. But the heart of the matter lay in the fact that she found she did not much care for this new Daerus. So very detestable was she finding him that she had almost forgotten that the man she now knew as Daerus was not really her beloved brother.

Seated at endmeal beside Lord Caelon, she glanced across the table at the heir to Shae and became aware of a sudden overwhelming sadness. He did not even _look_ quite like Daerus anymore.

"Someday, you will have to tell me what I have done to earn your brother's disapprobation," Lord Caelon said in her ear.

"What can you mean, my lord?" she asked him. "I did not even know that you were acquainted with him."

"I have not been formally presented to him," Lord Caelon agreed, "but that has not prevented him from directing some very formidable stares my way. Perhaps I should hasten to assure him that my intentions toward his sister are completely honorable?"

Dia smiled faintly. "I am afraid he would not be pleased with you, no matter what your intentions might be," she said ruefully.

"He objects to my attentions to you?"

"He has lost his mind and has taken to talking such complete nonsense that it is not worth repeating."

"I see." Lord Caelon looked down at her with that quizzing smile in his blue eyes. "Do you know, I do not think I should care to figure in your memory as the cause of a permanent breach with your twin -- no matter how much entertainment I may be deriving from needling the crown prince."

That confession made her laugh. "What a handsome admission for you to make, my lord!" Then she sobered. "There is no need for you to fret on that score. You have never even seen my brother."

"Indeed! How peculiar that everyone at court seems to believe the young gentleman currently scowling at you so disapprovingly is Lord Daerus of Shae."

"I ... No, he ... " Impulsively, Dia reached out and grasp his hand, having made a sudden decision. "May I beg your aid for just a moment, my lord?"

"My dear Lady Dia, surely you must know that you may command me in anything!"

"Oh, stop that!" She looked away from him and took a deep, calming breath. "I fear you may find this just a bit uncomfortable, my lord."

"I have met the Throk on the fields of Aerand and lived to tell the tale, my lady. You do not frighten me so easily."

Fleetingly, Dia wondered if Lord Caelon ever took anything seriously.

She would have to be quick about this, she realized. Daerus, as she knew him now, was not alone; instinct told her that he was never left alone. She hoped her contact with Lord Caelon would protect her, for she knew that she would be at least somewhat vulnerable during the sort of penetrating mind-touch she had in mind. Carefully, she prepared her defenses and reached out to touch the thoughts of her dinner companion.

_I do apologize for this, my lord,_ she told him with silent sincerity. _It will not be pleasant._

Not waiting for his reply, she stabbed in her brother's direction with their joined minds, moving as quick as thought. As she had expected, she encountered a formidable barrier of dank darkness before she even reached him and, without slowing down, she stabbed through it with everything she could muster. Then she was penetrating her brother's once familiar mind, and she had to clench her teeth together to keep from retching. To her, it felt exactly like plunging her arm into a stable midden. Daerus' mind bore a heavy, dense cloak of sticky, cold blackness, rancid and poisonous, that seemed to go on forever.

And then, huddled miserable and alone deep in the core of his mind, she finally found the twin brother she had known and loved all her life.

And, as always, he recognized her touch immediately. _Dia! Take care! It is not safe for you to touch me in this way ..._

_Daerus!_ she cried out in relief, sensing his fear for her and all his terrible longing. _Tell me what to do! How am I to free you of all this blackness?_

_Surrender to the light!_

_What?_

_Surrender to the light..._ And then he pushed her away, urging her wordlessly to escape from his prison. With a suddenness that bespoke a determined mental wrench, he was gone.

As briefly as she had touched her brother's mind, she was not quite quick enough. She felt the first few tendrils of the same disgusting mental sludge that had overcome Daerus slowly entering her thoughts. Lord Caelon seemed to feel it too, for she felt his shoulders stiffen and sensed his indignation through their mind-link. Very suddenly her mind was filled with a blazing, blinding light, and the dark mire withered and died. She quickly reestablished her defenses.

Then she turned her head to glance at Lord Caelon and found him already regarding her pensively. "I have the oddest feeling ... ," he began slowly.

"Yes?"

"... that I should like, above all things, to excuse myself and go bathe."

She grinned. "I did warn you, my lord."

"So you did," he replied cordially. "I see now what you meant when you said that I had never met your brother," he went on, sobering. "Can nothing be done for him?"

"I am not sure." A number of thoughts crowded her mind just then. Surrender to the light, Daerus had pleaded with her. That was what the Prophesy had said, as well. Surrender to the light? _How_ was she to surrender? To what light? Daerus had not wanted her to do anything for _him,_ she realized. Why? How could her surrender to this mysterious light free her brother? What did that mental mire in which he was trapped have to do with her?

Dia mentally shook herself and returned her attention to her companion. She found him watching her with a faint smile. "Tell me," he asked in an innocent manner, "does your brother's plight have anything at all to do with the service you asked me to perform for you when first we met?"

_Touche,_ she thought. "It has everything to do with it, my lord," she replied after a moment's hesitation, an inexplicable discomfort making her sound prim.

He nodded in a satisfied fashion. "I had wondered what that might be about," he said thoughtfully. "It did not seem likely that it was some sort of feminine ploy, for it has not escaped my attention that my mother's plotting is embarrassing you to death."

Blushing, she laughed, saying "Oh, but ... ,"

"And, while it seemed that _something_ was happening whenever we shook hands," my lord continued as if she had not spoken, "I could not fathom what it might be or what benefit you derived from it." He paused to look enquiringly at her.

Dia still felt some heat in her cheeks but she had recovered enough to reply with some composure. "As to that, my lord, I am not entirely certain what it might be. All I do know is that I, too, had succumbed, just as Daerus did, to that stinking darkness and that as soon as you took my hand, my mind cleared." Another thought occurred to her. "How did you do that? Just now, I mean," she demanded, rather incoherently.

He did not pretend any lack of understanding. "Did _I_ do that? I had thought it must be you, and was lost in admiration of the skills you seemed to possess that your brother apparently does not."

She shook her head, too deep in thought to defend her absent sibling. "Indeed, it was not I. Can you recall what you were thinking just at that instant?"

He was still smiling down at her. "Is it so very important?"

"Yes ... yes, it must be! Do please think, my lord!" Dia was remembering her brother's injunction.

"Well, I will," he promised, "but we will have to continue this conversation later."

Dia saw that the dining party was rising from the table at the Emperor's cue and was preparing to return to the salon. She wanted to scream with vexation; she had been right on the brink of it, she was certain of that. What perfectly dreadful timing! She would have to take care not to let this day end without learning from him how he had accomplished what neither she nor her brother, both fully trained by Phoebus, had been able to do.

Once again, she found herself wishing she could speak with her tutor. She sighed, allowing Lord Caelon to lead her from the dining hall.

Perhaps, if she could understand how Lord Caelon had commanded the blazing, brilliant power that had vanquished the dark might of her enemies, she _could_ help her brother. Was that what Daerus had meant by "surrender"? Perhaps that is how one learns control over it, by submitting to it? Lord Caelon might be able to help her with that, since he had apparently commanded the power of the light without effort. Indeed, she thought ruefully, he seemed to command powers he did not even believe in.

Dia paid little heed to her surroundings and her thoughts continued to race. She almost did not hear Lord Caelon's softly spoken words.

"I might easily walk you into a wall, for all the heed you are paying to where you are going," he said cheerfully. "I perceive you cannot set this matter aside, so perhaps I can be of some assistance."

"Your aid would be most welcome, sir," she replied, adopting what she hoped was an air of hesitant appeal. "I did not like to ask it of you, for you seemed to hold poor Daerus in the greatest aversion . . . "

"Yes," he agreed readily, his smiling eyes advising her that he was not fooled by her manner in the least, "but, as you have pointed out to me, I am not acquainted with your brother and, after the experiences of the last half hour, I am much inclined to believe you. So. You are wondering how best to help the fellow, are you not?"

They had reached the periphery of the crowd and Dia cast a nervous glance around to make sure they were not overheard. "I suppose I am. For the most part, I was trying to determine how it comes about that you so easily vanquish a power that neither of us seem able to defend ourselves against, for all our training."

"I have not the most distant guess how I am doing it, if that is what I have been doing," he told her unhelpfully. "And, while I can see how that would help _you,_ I am not certain the knowledge would be of any use to your brother."

"Possibly not, but it might help me to decipher his cryptic instructions. 'Surrender to the light' does not really tell me very much."

"No, I suppose it does not. And I am afraid I can be of little help to you there, either."

"Why, how is this?" she asked, rallying him. "I received much the same instructions from you."

"I beg your pardon?"

She looked at him curiously. "Do you have no recollection of quoting the First Prophesies for us, that first time I joined your mother for midmeal?"

The expression on his face was one of determined forbearance. "No, my lady," he said patiently but with a directness that was almost rude, "I do not. Although I suppose I must bring myself to believe I did so, since my mother has also questioned me along these lines. And while I gather from her that the incident has something to do with this Gaerud of yours, I fear it would be a waste of time to rehash the incident." Dia perceived that Lord Caelon most assuredly did _not_ want to discuss the matter, and she wondered briefly what he feared. She was still curious about it, but decided not to pursue it.

"So," his lordship was saying, "let us pursue another avenue of investigation, my lady. Did you not tell me that your brother had summoned you here?" Dia nodded confirmation and he went on, "Do you know why?"

"He did not give me a reason when first he did ask," she replied thoughtfully. "That was the last time he seemed as he had always been. By the time I had arrived here, he is as you see him now. He said that he wished to take the Princess Kera to wife and that he would present me to the Emperor in furtherance of his suit."

"And did that not strike you as odd?"

She smiled at the question, remembering the protests she made at the time. "Decidedly odd, my lord, for what should I have to say to his Majesty's approval of Daerus as marriage-son? And yet, if that was not my brother's purpose in asking me to come here, what can it have been?"

"To own the truth, I have no notion of what may have occurred to inspire your brother to invite you here," Lord Caelon said. "Whatever it may have been, it seems that once he knew you were coming, he fell pray to whatever ails him now. I find that very interesting."

"You think he was tricked into luring me here?"

"It certainly seems that way to me."

"But why?"

"A home question, my lady. What were you most likely to do, once you arrived and found your twin enmeshed in someone's toils?" he asked her, beginning to smile.

"I suppose," she said slowly, "I would do what I have done. Try to learn what has happened to him and how best to help him."

"And he has told you that, in order to do that, you will have to 'surrender to the light.' Logic suggests that they will wish to keep you from surrendering to this light of which your brother speaks and that that was their purpose all along." Lord Caelon was smiling broadly by this time.

Dia wondered what he was finding so amusing. "It does?"

"Of course! If you do as your brother has asked, if you find this light of his and submit to it, then they lose." She was still unsure of his meaning and that must have shown on her face, for Lord Caelon continued to patiently explain. "Lord Daerus was bait, my lady. We know that this unseen enemy of yours -- of ours, I must suppose" he amended with a wry smile, "is seeking to put you under their power in the same way they have enslaved your brother. I would wager that they could only do that if you were here, where they are. So, they persuaded him to send for you and then, once you were on your way, they imprisoned him in order to keep you here. They have used him to get to you."

"But why?" she asked again. "Why me?"

"I haven't the vaguest notion," Lord Caelon replied with unabated good humor. "But it does seem that you, not your brother, are the key to this business -- whatever it may be."

"I see," Dia said slowly, frowning again. "You have given me much to ponder, my lord. I th ... "

"Hail and well met, my lord, my lady," said Prince Maermat, abruptly joining them.

"How do you do, Highness?" Lord Caelon welcomed him so heartily that Dia looked at him sharply.

Her own greeting to the Prince was much more restrained but he did not appear to notice.

"I have been searching for you, my lady," his Imperial Highness went on. "We are making up a game of _thannaer_ and wondered if you would join us."

Even as he spoke, Dia felt the blackness descending upon her like the falling of a curtain. Her mind lurched out, instinctively reaching for Lord Caelon. _Do you feel it?_ she asked him.

_I do not feel it of myself,_ he said, _but I can feel what is directed at you. It would seem to confirm our theory that you are the target of whatever your enemies have in mind._

"We?" she was asking Prince Maermat.

"Your brother and my sister mean to play," he replied, even as the pressure against her mind grew heavier. "Lady Petra and Lord Taedal join us as well. What do you say, my lady? There are places for you and even for Lord Caelon if he should also wish to play."

_It would seem that any touch from you preserves me, my lord,_ Dia told her escort, _even a mind-touch. I wish I had known this sooner._

_Do you, my lady? I am not sorry for the frequent priviledge of taking your hand,_ he retorted, suiting action to words. "Do you join their party, my lady?" he asked aloud.

Dia noted but did not comment upon the measuring glint that came into the Prince's eyes as he observed that seemingly possessive gesture. Nor did she reply to Lord Caelon directly. Well aware that he could feel her amusement, she said to Prince Maermat, "I am sorry, your Highness, but I do not care for cards." And still the pressure of the darkness grew even heavier.

"Why, how is this?" asked a gay feminine voice. Princess Kera, on Daerus' arm, joined them. "Daerus was certain that you would find a game diverting, and surely your twin brother would know your favorite amusements."

"Indeed," Dia agreed, fixing Daerus with a considering eye, "one would have thought so."

"Come, Dia, you were used not to be so missish," her brother chided her. "I cannot imagine what has come over you since you came to Ormaerand."

That reprimand made her grin. "I might say the same of you, my dear," she told him sweetly, "but I shall not." Thinking quickly, and loftily ignoring Lord Caelon's fit of coughing, she continued, "In any event, I shall be returning to Shae presently, and I have no wish to return to Mama with gaming on my conscience."

A moment of shocked silence greeted this remark. Indeed, the company looked as perfectly appalled as if Dia had just announced her intention to appear for next endmeal completely naked. Except poor Lord Caelon, who continued coughing in such a distressing fashion that the Princess Kera glanced at him briefly and in some alarm.

Finally, Prince Maermat broke the silence. "You are returning to Shae?" he asked, his speculative gaze intent.

"Why, yes, your Highness," Dia said cordially. "I shall have to leave soon, you know, before HighSun makes travel quite unsuitable."

"Surely you do not intend to leave us so soon!" Princess Kera protested, worriedly glancing toward her brother.

"We shall speak of this later, sister," was all Daerus had to say.

"If you wish," Dia replied serenely. "And now, if you will all excuse me, I really must make my way to Lady Tamia's side. No doubt she will be wishing to retire by now."

"Allow me to escort you, my lady," Lord Caelon wheezed, having almost completely recovered by this time, and placed the hand he still held on his arm. Together, they left the little knot of people behind. "And what of this sudden announcement of your departure, Lady Dia?" he asked her as soon as they were out of earshot. "Do you really mean to abandon your brother so callously?"

"I very much doubt that I shall be permitted to do so, my lord," she replied, still very calm. "For so long as I remained here, trying to help Daerus, they need do nothing other than continue with their attempts to ensnare me with their darkness -- and that cannot be very difficult for them, for their darkness is everywhere," she added wearily. "But, if I am about to bring my visit to a close, they shall have to do _something_ , and I am very curious to know what that something will be."

"You play a dangerous game, my lady," Lord Caelon said seriously after a moment's consideration. "If they find they cannot control your mind as they have your brother's, they may decide to put a period to your existence instead."

"I do not think so, my lord," she disagreed. "If their only purpose is to prevent me from some act which they fear, then the simplest way to accomplish that would be for me to die. Yet, they have not tried to kill me. No, for some reason, they need me and I am very curious to know why. Perhaps, if I push them a little, I shall find out."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caelon learns of the Gaerud and Dia receives an offer.

"Come in, Daerus."

So certain had Dia been that she would be gratified by a visit from her brother that she had not even begun to prepare for bed when Lord Caelon had delivered her to her room. Instead, she had spent that time in peaceful meditation, furnishing herself with the core of a calm she knew she would need. By the time she recognized his altered aura outside her bedroom door, she was ready for him.

Daerus did not await a second invitation, but let himself into her sitting room without ceremony and fixed her with a brooding stare. Dia placidly returned his gaze and waited.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked her abruptly.

She smiled. "Why should I stay? I do not _live_ here, you know."

"Are you _trying_ to offend the imperial family?"

"Not at all, and I know of no reason why they should be offended."

"Oh, come now, Dia!" he said, distracted. "Almost no one leaves the Emperor's court so soon! He is sure to be offended and my chance to be wed to Kera will be lost!"

At that, she laughed aloud. "How can you be so absurd, Daerus? It has been obvious to everyone at court since before ever I arrived that his Majesty quite dotes upon you. Indeed, I fancy you had no need of my aid, no matter what you may say to the contrary. No, Daerus, do not start to rant at me, if you please. I have met the Emperor and his family, and have thoroughly charmed them all. What reason have I for prolonging my visit?"

He was shaking his head. "What I do not understand," he said in bewilderment, "is why you would want to leave. Do you not find the palace comfortable? Is not the company far more congenial than any to be found at Shae at this season?"

"My tastes do not run in that direction, Daerus, and you should know that," she replied gently. "I have told you many times that I will not stay here any longer than I must, so I cannot conceive why you should be so surprised. Moreover, if I do not go soon, I will be stranded here for the better part of half the year."

"And what of Maermat?" Daerus went on, ignoring her protests. "Have you given any thought to his reaction to this news?"

"No," she said.

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Why should I?" Dia asked. "Surely, his Highness must be quite used to bidding his father's guests farewell."

"Come now, Dia," he said impatiently, "you know perfectly well that you are more than just another imperial guest in his eyes."

Dia regarded her brother calmly for a few moments, wondering if his keepers had given him permission to be more forthcoming than he had been so far. "I fear I know nothing of the sort. Do not say that the fellow has developed a passion for me?" she asked in mild amusement.

"Is that so difficult to believe?"

"Frankly, yes." She waited but he did not speak. So, she added, "Daerus, do you tell me that your Prince Maermat intends to offer for my hand?"

"His Highness has not confided in me," Daerus said, repressively if unconvincingly, "but I should not be at all surprised if that was indeed his intention. It should be obvious that he is quite smitten with you."

"It is not obvious to me," Dia stated. "In any event, since I have no wish to be wed to Maermat, I shall hope that you are quite mistaken and that I shall be spared the embarrassment of having to refuse him."

"Refuse him?" asked Daerus incredulously. "Are you mad?"

"Me?"

"The most advantageous offer any female in the entire Empire could wish, and you would refuse it?" he raged at her. "Have you any idea how many ladies at court would give _anything_ to be wed to Kaerkas' heir?"

"No, but I very much wish that his Highness would offer for one of them, instead," Dia said, still serene. She paused, fixing him with an interested gaze. "Just as a matter of some curiosity, I gather that you favor the Prince's suit?"

"Well, of course I do!" he told her.

"And it does not appear to you to matter whether or not I hold him in the greatest aversion," she observed. "Or does it?"

Daerus did not reply, merely bending a look of brooding disapproval upon her.

"The Daerus I once knew would never have urged me into a marriage simply for the sake of power or position," Dia said, softly pensive.

"The Daerus you once knew," he mimicked with a sneer, "was an ignorant bumpkin who knew little of the ways of the world."

"Perhaps," she said thoughtfully, "but that fellow was also my brother and I loved him dearly. I shall miss him."

"Treasure your memories, my dear. That naive, stupid fellow is quite dead."

Dia looked at him with a laugh in her eyes, knowing that he lied and that he knew she knew it. "How unfortunate! But that is neither here nor there," she went on, not giving him a chance to reply. "You give me to understand that you desire that I respond favorably to Maermat's suit, and no matter that I hold him in the greatest aversion?"

Once again, for a moment, he did not reply. Patiently, Dia waited as he brooded in silence. Then, finally, he said, "You _must_ wed him."

"Must I?"

"Yes, hang it all, Dia!"

"Why?"

"Think of all the people you will disappoint if you do not!" he replied, answering her question obliquely. "If you think my father will be glad to know that you turned down the opportunity to be the future Empress, you must be all about in your head. And my mother! Not to mention the whole of the imperial family. Do you care to distress them all so needlessly?"

"You have not answered my question, you know," Dia said, still very, very calm. "Why _must_ I be wed to Maermat?"

Again, there was a moment of tense silence. "Is it not enough that I wish it?" he asked her in some desperation. "Once, you would not have refused me this favor."

"Once, you would not have asked it," she retorted instantly. "Now, do please answer me. Why must I be wed to Maermat? What will happen if I am not?"

"You force my hand," he told her reluctantly, his eyes growing as hard as granite. "Understand this, Dia, you _shall_ be wed to Maermat, if not willingly, then unwillingly. I had hoped that you would come to your senses in this matter, and so be spared a great deal of pain and humiliation. If you will not, then so be it; I have done what I could. You may refuse his _honorable_ offer, if you are feeling so capricious, but in the end, you will find yourself with no other choice."

Dia chuckled. "Really, Daerus, such theatrics! Truly, I am not so unreasonable as you seem to think, my dear. But if I am to mortgage my future and my happiness in this fashion, then you will at least have to give me a reason for it." She paused but he did not reply. "Since you seem unwilling to do so, you cannot be too surprised to find me intractable."

There was a long pregnant silence. "You know _nothing_ of the power you so disdain," he finally said in a hoarse, tortured voice, "and, as you will learn to your sorrow, _you cannot escape it!_ "

"And, still, he has not answered my question," she mused sadly. "Or perhaps he has? Never mind, then, since you are reluctant to answer that question, let us try you another. I make no doubt that this proposed espousal to Maermat has to do with that cold, beauteous darkness of yours, is that not so?" When he did not reply, contenting himself with staring at her warily, she added, "Come, twin, do not be coy. That is what you meant when you spoke just now of the power I so disdain."

Still, he hesitated for a moment before finally nodding an affirmation.

Dia smiled then. "You say I cannot escape it," she told him gently, "but it must surely be obvious to you that I _have_ escaped it."

"What can you mean?" he asked, sounding so shocked that she might easily have laughed aloud.

"Can it be you have not noticed that I have thrown off that blanket of darkness and have not succumbed to it again?" she asked him placidly. "I rather fancy that 'escape' does not even come into it, Daerus. I have made my _choice._ I choose to eschew that revolting darkness and you cannot force me to choose differently."

Her brother's scowl grew blacker and blacker throughout this speech and, when it was done, she saw his hands bunch themselves into fists. That amused her, and she smiled faintly but her gaze remained steady. "You would be among the Chosen of Lord Septha, and you presume to refuse Him?" he asked, outraged.

"Most assuredly, dearest," Dia replied readily.

Daerus continued to stare at her, breathing heavily, looking angry, offended, even shocked, and quite obviously bereft of speech. Then, as if he must put some distance between himself and his sister, he flung himself to the door, wrenched it open and almost fell into Lord Caelon's arms. "Your pardon, sir," Daerus said stiffly.

"Indeed, I beg _your_ pardon, sir," Lord Caelon replied promptly, smiling.

"Tell me, Daerus, have you been presented to his lordship?" Dia asked him, the picture of innocence.

"I have not," replied her brother with an ill-grace.

"Really, Daerus, how remiss! You must certainly pay your respects to Lord Saeros and Lady Tamia of Aerandos, for Lady Tamia is a particular friend of Mama's and she would be so disappointed if you did not." _Indeed,_ she thought to herself, _I am beginning to sound like Lady Tamia, chattering on like this._ "Allow me to present Lord Caelon, heir to Aerandos. This is my brother, my lord, Daerus of Shae."

"I am very happy to make your acquaintance at last, my lord," Lord Caelon said, apparently taking his cue from Dia and holding out his hand.

Daerus stared at that hand as if it were a poisonous snake, and it seemed for a moment that he would commit the terrible solecism of refusing to take it. Finally, he reached out, moving as if he were about to plunge his arm into a fire, and executed the expected handclasp. Dia, an interested spectator, saw Daerus turn pasty white and wince when Lord Caelon's hand closed around his. Really, the lad looked quite ill!

Hurriedly, Daerus excused himself and rushed off toward his own apartments. Lord Caelon looked after him for a moment before he turned quizzical eyes upon her. "I do hope he makes it back to his rooms before he faints!" he said.

Dia gazed pensively after her brother's rapidly retreating form. "I must admit, I had wondered what the result would be, if I could contrive to place him in a position in which he would have to grasp your hand." Then she smiled at him. "I am surprised to see you again, my lord. You are taking very good care of me, you know."

He laughed at that. "Dear me! I am now wholly at a disadvantage, for in fact, I have come to you in the hope that you will indulge me with a few explanations."

In reply, she held open her door, wordlessly inviting him inside. As she did so, she reflected ruefully that this new development would certainly give the palace rumor-mongers much to occupy them.

Lord Caelon seemed to have had the same thought. "Are you sure you want to encourage the speculations that have been distressing you so, my lady?"

"To be honest with you, I do not care one whit for these silly people and what they may have to say of what I do. There are much more important matters to occupy my thoughts."

"So I perceive. It begins?"

"Indeed." She crossed the room to resume her seat.

"And what have you learned?"

"I am informed that I am required to be wed to Prince Maermat."

Lord Caelon greeted this news in silence for a moment, absently refusing her gestured invitation to seat himself. She got the distinct impression that he was disturbed. "You will accept?"

"I had rather be wed to a toad," she assured him promptly.

He chuckled. "I would think your brother's reaction to such sentiments rather defies description. Maermat is the premiere catch in the Empire, you know. Your parents may not be pleased with your choice."

Dia shook her head. "My father has little use for Emperor Kaerkas, although he is very careful to speak of him with respect. Papa will not reproach me for my decision."

"You are fortunate, then, in your family."

"Very true, my lord, but I do not think you came here to discuss my family with me," she said smoothly.

"Well, only insomuch as they affect your present predicament," he replied with a grin. "Your brother thinks to somehow force you into this marriage?"

Dia nodded.

"I wonder why."

"So did I. I did ask him, but he would not answer. Or at least," she corrected herself thoughtfully, "he did not answer directly."

"I see. And what was his indirect answer?" his lordship asked.

"I gather that Lord Septha is unwilling to allow me the privilege of my choice," she replied, wondering if she would be obliged to argue with him about the identity of their adversary.

To her surprise, however, he did not comment on her theological assumptions. "One is forced to wonder whether this proposed match is the means to an end or the end itself," he pondered, beginning to pace the floor.

She frowned thoughtfully. "Do you know, I cannot tell. Certainly, Prince Maermat has been very particular in his attentions all along, but I am not sure if his purpose has been to keep me here, basking in his favor," and Lord Caelon laughed at her sarcasm, "or if he has been in earnest in trying to persuade me to favor his suit. But why would the God of Chaos need me to wed the prince?"

"I should have thought the answer to that question would be obvious," Lord Caelon said. "He does not want you to wed someone else."

"Oh, goodness, surely this elaborate scheme does not have so simple an aim!" Dia protested with sudden impatience. "They could have let me remain at Shae and accomplished the very same thing. What possible difference could it make who I take to husband or even if I remain unwed? That cannot be it!"

"That must be it, my lady. Either that," Lord Caelon added, smiling, "or it is their intent to imprison you here without seeming to."

That gave her a moment's pause. "Frankly, that makes a great deal more sense. After all, they cannot fling me into a dungeon. I fancy my father would have something to say to that."

"And not just your father. Should the Emperor treat the child of any of the Great Houses so, he would find himself embroiled in a civil war without delay, for you may be very sure that Aerandos, Tamaer and Gedbaen would stand with Shae, even if Ormaer cannot be expected to stand against an Emperor of their own House."

"I wonder if they will care?" Dia said slowly, still frowning. "Septha the Destroyer is aptly named, you know. His purpose is always the same: war, famine, anarchy, chaos. His minions here in the palace may be working toward those aims without even realizing it." She looked at him very seriously. "I do apologize, my lord. I fancy that this must all sound like perfect nonsense to you ..."

To her astonishment, Lord Caelon actually flushed. "No, my lady, do not apologize. I find myself forced by circumstance to revise some long held opinions. There was a time," he added with a wry smile, "not so long ago, in fact, when I would have said that anyone who claimed to be able to hear the thoughts of another was either dreadfully untruthful or a raving lunatic."

"Oh dear!" Dia laughed.

"Now I am forced to conclude either that _I_ am a raving lunatic or I was mistaken." He grew serious, adding, "In the wake of everything else that has transpired, I perceive that I must have some small part to play in this matter."

Unbidden, she heard Lord Caelon's transformed voice saying, _"But if the other should surrender to the light ... ."_ Aloud, she said, smiling impishly, "I shall hope you will not find that inconvenient, my lord."

"I am apt to find it very inconvenient," he retorted, "for although I would readily lend you my aid, I have not the smallest notion of what is required of me, or even what our goals are. I am a soldier, my lady. I am not comfortable without a battle plan."

"I can certainly understand that," she said feelingly. "Well, I will tell you want I can, as best I can recall from my studies with Phoebus." She paused, folding her hands in her lap and gazing at him thoughtfully. "It were best, I think, not to bombard you with an entire theology at this time, however."

Laughter suddenly lit Lord Caelon's eyes, banishing embarrassment. "I would tend to agree with that."

She smiled absently at his remark, still reviewing her lessons in her mind. "Very well then. Since you require a battle plan, the best I can do is to tell you of the battle." She raised her eyes to his. "The Ages always end in the same way. Septha the Destroyer is said to await the final death of each Phoenix, for in the Interval between the death of one and the rise of another, He gains His chance to achieve a place in this world. If He succeeds in making that place for Himself, He is then in a position to engage Ancient Phoenix in battle for what is said to be His lost place among the Gods of this world."

"The Gaerud." Lord Caelon's guess was not really a question.

"Indeed, my lord," Dia responded. "Right now, this world is in terrible peril, for never before has there been such a long Interval between the death of one Phoenix and the emergence of the next."

"The length of the Interval affects the pitch of the battle?" he asked her, his expression intent.

"Well, the longer that Septha abides in this world and poisons our minds and hearts ... "

"In much the way that seems to have happened in this palace," interjected Lord Caelon.

"Indeed, my lord, in the entire city and much of the lands in the district of Ormaer," she agreed. "As more time elapses, Septha feels his strength as the number of His followers grows greater. His instruments acquire Secrets and spells of their own, even as the TimeKeepers' Secrets grow feeble and useless until the emergence of the next Phoenix."

"Hold a moment, my lady," Lord Caelon said. "Septha's followers? I fear I have noticed no mass conversion, nor anyone proposing to build temples to His worship. What can you mean?"

"Do you imagine the worship of a God or Goddess depends upon the building of temples and the construction of dogma? Septha acquires His following through the lives of the people of this world, even as does Ancient Phoenix. Under the gentle hand of the Phoenix, we live in peace and order. Septha brings chaos and destruction."

Lord Caelon nodded his comprehension. "So, the longer this world must await the Phoenix, the stronger Septha's power grows."

"That is the heart of the matter, my lord," she confirmed. "In the transition between Ages past, it was enough for the new Phoenix to wave His hand to banish Septha once more. It has been so long now that our Phoenix is like to have quite a fight on His hands, when finally He does appear."

"If a fight is the final order of business, then perhaps I am well-chosen after all," Lord Caelon said, sounding so satisfied with this arrangement that Dia laughed. "The only question to answer now is still the first: what must be done to clear the way for the return of the Phoenix?"

"'Surrender to the light,' Lord Caelon. That is the only instruction we have received," she said ruefully. Then she frowned. "You know, that is really rather odd. The instruction for me is not to avoid the darkness. Nor is it to live with the light, or something to that effect."

"Yes," Lord Caelon said slowly, his brow furrowed in concentration. "You are charged with the act of surrender, rather than passively accepting this light."

"So, while Daerus has already fulfilled his part of that prophesy -- for he has surely drowned in darkness -- it is not going to be enough for me to resist his schemes. I must find this light of which the Phoenix spoke and submit myself to it." She paused again, and then sighed. "How very difficult this is! I _wish_ I could speak with Phoebus!"

Lord Caelon regarded her with an uncharacteristic diffidence in his expression, clearing his throat to attract her attention. She raised her eyebrows questioningly, and he said, "If this Prophesy is, in truth, a prophesy, it is destined to happen, is it not?"

Dia nodded, her eyes narrowing as she tried to anticipate the direction of his thoughts.

"If it is destined to happen," he went on, even more diffidently, "then you have no need of deciphering those cryptic instructions, have you? All you will have to do is avoid interfering with it."

She stared at him in astonishment for a moment before breaking into reluctant laughter. "Oh dear!" she gasped finally when she could. "You are perfectly right, of course you are! For now, all I need do is to keep Daerus and his friends from succeeding in their attempts to prevent me from performing my task. The rest will follow as naturally as the Great Dark follows High Sun." She shook her head. "I think I have been overly concerned because _they_ seem to know what my task is, even if I do not. Unless ... "

"Unless?"

"Unless they have no more notion than do we but they believe they can control me by marrying me to Maermat," she said, thinking aloud.

"There is no way for us to know, my lady, nor is it really necessary for us to know. For now, we must simply wait. I shall allow myself to be guided by you, for I am even more in the dark about this business than you are. But I mean to do what I can to help."

Unexpectedly, Dia felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She could not have said why, but she found it profoundly moving that Lord Caelon, self-proclaimed unbeliever that he was, should utter so simple and sincere an expression of pure faith.

"Now, what have I said to distress you, my lady?" he asked, watching her.

She shook her head slowly. "Why are you doing this, Lord Caelon?" she asked in her turn, blinking the moisture from her eyes.

"Why am I doing what?"

"Why are you so willing to come to my aid in this pass?"

He smiled. "To own the truth, I do not really know. Perhaps it is because you are worth the effort, daughter of Shae."

It was not until he spoke that she realized she was hoping for something more personal, but she nodded an acknowledgement of that reminder with quiet dignity, rising from her chair. It had long been established among the Great Houses of the Empire that they would stand together when any one of their members was being threatened or improperly importuned.

"Or," Lord Caelon continued, "perhaps it is because it disturbs me to witness such fear and dismay in a gently-bred young lady -- however valiantly she tries to hide it. I am a soldier of Aerandos, my lady; my instinct is to protect and to defend."

Much to her chagrin, Dia blushed. "Thank you, my lord."

With no further conversation, she escorted him to her door.

Just before he left her, Lord Caelon said, "Remains now only to discover your brother's next move. I wonder how he will try to force you into betrothal with Maermat."

"No doubt we shall find out soon enough," she replied placidly.

Upon her next waking, Dia rose and unenthusiastically prepared herself for what had become her routine session with the Emperor and his children, fully expecting another harangue from Daerus on the way. Thus, she was somewhat surprised when Daerus did not come to her rooms as usual, apparently deciding to exclude her from the imperial audience chamber. She wondered in considerable amusement if her twin actually thought such an act would be punishment enough to persuade her to change her mind.

Not long before midmeal, however, she answered a knock on her door and found herself face to face with the detestable Lord Oshaed, accompanied by two ceremonial guards. "Your business, sir?" she asked him frostily.

"One hopes that you are well, my lady," he said with his usual leer, "and are not too exhausted from your romping last night."

Dia, eying the fellow like the insect that he was, considered and discarded various likely responses before settling on one of them. "Jealous, my lord?" she asked gently, with the faintest of smiles.

It was a bow drawn at a venture, but when Lord Oshaed's leer was abruptly replaced by a ferocious scowl and a dull red flush, she realized that this wrinkled little man's preoccupation had its roots in what others enjoyed that he could not. From the direction of the guards, she heard a muffled snort. Even more gently, she added, "Was there anything else you wanted, my lord?"

Through clenched teeth, he retreated into formula, "His Imperial Majesty commands my lady's presence in his audience chamber."

Still with that faint smile, she curtseyed and said, "Thank you, my lord."

Lord Oshaed turned and stalked off down the corridor. The two guards followed, one of them being so impertinent as to wink at her before he left.

Dia beguiled the short walk to the imperial audience chamber wondering why she had not been summoned directly after firstmeal, as had been her brother's custom. Surely, the day's audiences must be almost over. Immediately upon entering the imperial presence, however, Dia knew that something was in the wind. Instead of occupying unobtrusive seats along the walls, her brother and the Prince and Princess were ranged in statuesque formality around the Emperor's chair. The scene at once registered in her mind as of a pack of hungry jackals poised for an attack, for there was that in their postures that suggested decisive divisions into "us" and "them". She saw at once that she had not been invited to accompany the imperial family during the Emperor's audiences; she had been summoned to an audience herself.

"Lady Dia of Shae," the herald announced her and withdrew.

"My lady," the Emperor nodded at her.

Dia sank gracefully into a deep curtsey. "Your Imperial Majesty," she responded with equal formality. As she rose, she noted the almost identical expressions of smug triumph on the faces of Daerus, Princess Kera, and even the amorous Prince Maermat. They looked very much as if they considered this particularly battle already fought and won. Quite unconsciously, Dia's back stiffened.

"As you may know," the Emperor began, "your good brother had gratified Us by aspiring to the hand of the Imperial Prince Kera. Shae is an excellent House and We are pleased to bestow her on so worthy a gentleman."

Dia smiled calmly. "The House of Shae is honored, Sire, and I am sure I wish them very happy," she replied, still very formal.

"Since Our daughter is so admirably settled, We have turned Our attention to Our heir. We are sure you will agree that it is even more crucial that he be wed suitably and that Our line be continued," his Majesty continued.

Dia nodded and waited.

"We have decided that he too shall be connected by marriage to the most excellent House of Shae. Therefore, it is Our decree that you, Lady Dia, shall be wed to the Prince Maermat immediately."

There was a long silence, during which Dia felt the oppressive darkness that permeated the palace grow thicker and heavier around her. Silently, she cursed her own arrogance. It had never occurred to her that Daerus might take this matter to the Emperor. Yet, she saw now that she should have known what his next move would be.

An imperial command, and what was she to do? Sternly, she reminded herself that her first task was to hold panic at bay. Her determination hardened as she recalled that she did, after all, have options, and she silently vowed once more that she would _not_ be wed to Maermat, even if it meant she had to escape Ormaeranda altogether and live in exile in nearby Lemantia or out in the islands of Akkam to the west. If to force her into marriage with Maermat of Ormaer was the Destroyer's means of strengthening His position for the upcoming Gaerud, he would find that he had chosen the wrong vessel.

Then, suddenly, she began to feel a warm glow, deep inside her, that pushed away the darkness that was bearing down on her and the chill fear that had frozen her tongue. The glow expanded, enfolding her in such a comforting warmth that her entire body stilled with an absolute calm such as she had never experienced. With no conscious notion of having formed the words in her mind, or of having ordered her tongue to utter them, she said, "I am very sorry, your Majesty, but I am afraid that that is quite impossible."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dia overcomes Imperial importunities.

" . . . and so, of course, his Majesty asked me at once whatever I could mean by such a statement," Lady Dia was recounting to an audience of interested Aerandosians, kneading her hands anxiously. Caelon watched her with interest, rather amused that the normally self-possessed Lady Dia should be reduced to the nervousness of a kitten and wondering what under the sun could have happened.

Neither he nor his parents had been a bit surprised to see her when he had opened his mother's sitting room door and invited her inside. After all, she usually arrived shortly before midmeal to enliven his mother's day with her company. Today, however, she had hurled herself into his mother's sitting room as if all the demons of Chaos were chasing her and, instead of settling down to chat, she had said in some agitation that she had done something dreadful and wished to beg their pardon. Thus far, the nature of her crime had wholly escaped Caelon, for the girl seemed to be taking the devil of a long time getting to the point.

"So, I told him . . . I told him . . . ," and Lady Dia faltered to a stop.

After a seemingly interminable wait, during which it became apparent that her ladyship could not bring herself to continue, his mother prompted gently, "You told him . . . ?"

She took a deep breath. "I told him that I could not honorably accept the Prince's offer b-because I was already p-promised . . . ," her eyes fell away from Lady Tamia's and, crimson cheeked, she continued in a mortified whisper, " . . . to Lord Caelon."

For an astonished moment, no one spoke. Caelon exchanged a glance with his parents and then, as one, they fell into gusts of merriment. Lady Dia raised startled eyes to gaze at them all and, sadly, her obvious bewilderment made the laugh all the more.

"Well, young lady," his father said when he could command his voice again, "you have certainly shown that you know how to keep your wits about you in an emergency."

"You do not mind this subterfuge?" she asked anxiously, directing the question impartially at the three of them.

"Mind? My dear child, I would willingly commit a far worse crime than this to preserve a daughter of Mara's from having her hand forced in this fashion!" his mother declared. She suddenly giggled, adding, "Your mama would be so proud of you!"

Lady Dia paled, her eyes dilating. "Oh, dear! Mama!"

That made his parents laugh again. Caelon, managing to keep from grinning, chimed in, "Well, really, I find all this mirth unseemly! Here am I being entrapped into marriage by this designing female, and you two can do nothing but laugh!"

Lady Dia stared at him in considerable dismay. His parents, who knew him rather better than did my lady, very naturally laughed again, until his father grinned at him and said, "You know, you could do much worse, lad."

"Oh, you two are perfectly dreadful," Lady Tamia declared, trying unsuccessfully to contain her mirth. "Here is poor Lady Dia, almost ready to sink from the mortification of having been forced into this prevarication (and doubtless terrified that we will think ill of her), and all you can think of to do by way of reassurance is to tease her in this terribly unkind way!"

"How can you say so, my lady?" protested Lord Saeros, eyes twinkling. "I am sure I would never behave so callously toward Lady Dia. I was teasing _Caelon_!"

"Odious wretch!" retorted the Dutchess with a fond smile. Then she looked at Lady Dia. "So, what had his Majesty to say to your mendacious tale?"

Her ladyship reddened once more. "He has said that he will take up the matter with Lord Saeros and Lord Caelon presently," she told them, still looking terribly embarrassed.

Lord Saeros looked at her with shrewd eyes. "And you hurried off to your alleged groom to beg him not to give you away. Is that it?" he asked her gently.

Lady Dia, once more kneading her hands, nodded miserably. "Really, I am so sorry, I would never have embroiled any of you in this, but truly, I did not know what else to do. My father is not here and Daerus . . . ," here, she hesitated.

"Daerus," Caelon completed the sentence for her, "is unlikely to be of any more use in this case than he has been since you arrived. In fact," he added, thinking aloud, "I shouldn't wonder at it if this whole thing was his idea."

Lady Dia ducked her head, looking so ashamed that he found himself wishing he had left that thought unsaid.

Lady Tamia, also noting her distress, said, "Oh, surely not! Your brother might wish for you to wed into the imperial family as he intends to do, but he could not be pleased to think that you are forced to wed against your will!"

To Caelon's complete astonishment, Lady Dia's only response to this protest was the single tear which escaped her control and slid down her cheek. Her hands worked even faster, until he wondered if she would tear her own skin in her agitation.

Naturally, that was entirely too much for his mother. She leapt at once to her feet to enfold the girl in a tender embrace, crooning and fussing over her comfortingly. But Caelon could see, by the stiffness with which she returned Lady Tamia's embrace and the muscles rippling along her jaw, that her ladyship was not so much hurt by her brother's betrayal as she was enraged at his machinations. He would have given a great deal to have been present at their next private interview.

Meanwhile, Lord Saeros cast an appraising eye over his son. "The question now," that gentleman said, "is whether or not you mean to expose my lady as an undutiful fraud."

"It is a very lowering reflection," Caelon said mournfully, to no one in particular, "that my own father thinks his only son a dastardly villain. Of course, I will maintain the fiction. I am a gentleman, sir, and I shall always lend my aid to a damsel in distress, whether I save her from a ferocious dragon or a boring bridegroom."

"Well, you may laugh at all this, my dear," Lady Tamia said regretfully to her husband -- a gracious permission of which Lord Saeros seemed to be taking full advantage -- "but I for one will be honest with you and admit that I wish my lady's tale were indeed true."

Lady Dia, listening to this confession, blushed a fiery red and looked more mortified than ever.

"Why, how shocking," Caelon said in wholly feigned amazement. Then, he grinned again. "Really, Mama, there was no need for you to make such a disclosure. You have been as subtle in your matchmaking as an axe to the head."

"Now, stop it, young man," Lady Tamia said, unruffled. "Here is poor Saeros, guffawing and wheezing in the most distressing fashion, and just think how dreadful if he should take a fit of choking and die of laughter. We will discuss this matter calmly just as soon as my lord has composed himself."

"What is there to discuss, ma'am?" Caelon asked his mother.

"Do you still mean to leave the palace, my dear?" she asked Lady Dia by way of an answer.

"Indeed, your Grace, I shall be gone from here before ever firstmeal is served," Lady Dia informed them fervently. "I must advise my father of all that has come to pass. Daerus will wed where he chooses, but I rather fancy Papa will have some words for my dear brother about his duty to compel the respect due his sister."

Caelon grinned. She spoke with a certain vindictive pleasure that made perfect sense to him. Really, the boy deserved to be horsewhipped -- or he would, if he were not bound in that accursed mental slime. Recalling their conversation when first she had announced her intention to return to Shae, he now wondered what next their enemies would do to prevent it, for they had certainly given Lady Dia good reason to want to leave the palace as soon as possible.

"You are going to have to accompany her, you know, Caelon," Lord Saeros interrupted his thoughts.

"Indeed?" Lady Dia asked in some surprise. "May I know why?"

"If we are going to maintain this fiction long enough for the Grand Dukes to respond, it would look odd for your prospective bridegroom to permit you to set out alone, my lady," Lord Saeros explained.

"Respond?"

"Whether or not you and my son are to be wed is beside the point," his Grace continued severely. "It is quite intolerable that you should have been put in a position in which you had to fabricate such a tale in order to avoid a distasteful marriage of the Emperor's choosing. His Majesty cannot simply dispose of the children of the Great Houses as if they were his chattels, and he seems in need of being reminded of this."

Caelon looked at his father sardonically. "Just how long is that going to take, sir?" he asked politely. "Shall I, in fact, be required to wed my lady in order to give you enough time to prepare this response?"

"I think not," Lord Saeros said blandly, "but how ungallant of you to display your distaste for the notion so plainly. I have already given you my opinion that you might do much worse." Caelon grinned at that reproach as his father continued. "Loraed's prompt reaction cannot be in doubt. Gaeron of Tamaer can also be counted on for swift action, for he has three daughters and will no doubt be quite dismayed by his Majesty's behavior."

"And Permaedon of Gedbaen is your marriage-brother," Caelon interjected, still grinning, "and will do as he is told."

"Sisters do have their uses," Lord Saeros remarked blandly.

Two pairs of unfriendly, feminine eyes fixed themselves upon him.

 

Dia sat in the bathtub that had been prepared in her sitting room, trying to soak the accumulated tensions of recent events from her tired body, and considered Colonel Lord Caelon Aerandos. He had certainly seemed to take the whole betrothal charade in much better part than she had expected, for she had feared he would take this as some sort of ploy to entrap him into a match. She would have liked to have explained to him that the deception had not been entirely her idea, but since she could not have said from where those unbidden words had come, she knew that such an explanation was unlikely to mend matters. She sighed and found herself wishing, not for the first time, that she could have met the Grand Duke Saeros of Aerandos and his delightful family under different circumstances.

Turning her thoughts to her much more immediate problems, she wondered once again how Daerus and his imperial fiancee would now contrive to get her wed to Prince Maermat. Perhaps they would give up on that idea, if they could decide upon some other course of action by which they could hope would control her. If she could imagine what they hoped to achieve by such a match, she could also perceive certain disadvantages to them, for Dia would be no docile, dutiful bride and her position within the imperial family would be likely to give her a much better vantage point from which to combat the evil darkness that had consumed her brother and was threatening her.

And yet, even with those advantages, she felt a growing conviction that she would very soon have to leave this place. Not just yet, for there was still a piece of the puzzle missing, but very soon. She smiled ruefully to herself. From her point of view, the puzzle was still a puzzle and all of it was missing. Once again, she was visited by the rather odd notion that she was being fed minute bits of information, little flashes of insight that would prompt her to act but would give her no extras in the way of explanation or instruction. She recalled that comforting warmth and light that had overwhelmed her in the throne room during her interview with Emperor Kaerkas. In its way, it was every bit as powerful and irresistible as the cloying darkness which Septha the Destroyer spun, but Dia did not fear its power. She could not have said why she felt so certain that the warm brilliance was no threat, even when it was every bit as controlling as the darkness, and it occurred to her that she was operating on hunches and guesses and gut instincts that reduced to a more profound sort of faith than any she had ever had to summon to her aid before.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at her sitting room door. Dia, stepping from the bath and wrapping a large toweling sheet around her body, reached out with her mind and encountered her brother's familiar presence. "Go away, Daerus," she called to him. "I am indisposed."

Much to Dia's annoyance, her brother's reply to that denial was to open the door without further ceremony. She opened her mouth to scold him but the words died on her lips as her eyes met his. His smile was distinctly unpleasant and the only word she could think of to describe the way he looked at her was _evil_. Unaccountably, her heart gave a frightened thump.

More to dispel that ridiculous knot of fear -- _Whatever they have done to him, this is still Daerus,_ she told herself sternly -- than from any real desire to exchange in bantering converse with him, she said with a resigned sigh, "Can you never rid yourself of this habit of bursting into my chambers whenever you have news? Really, Daerus, only think what Mama would say to such incivility!"

To her surprise, the wicked light faded from his eyes and he blinked in some bewilderment. "Mama?" he said stupidly.

"Yes, Mama," she said, taking a free corner of the towel and beginning to pat herself dry with it. "You _do_ remember her, I trust?" Deliberately, she kept her tone casual and offhand as, without betraying her interest, she watched his reactions.

"Yes, of course I remember her!" he said impatiently, sounding just as he might have a week before he left home. "What has she to say to anything?"

Dia grinned. "What, indeed? Poor Mama! Papa would not thank you for speaking so disrespectfully of her."

"Dia ... !"

"And how often has she had to remind you that," and here, Dia's voice took on the sing-song quality of one reciting an oft-heard refrain, "no matter that she is your sister, my dear, Dia is still a lady, and you must not go about bursting into her rooms as if they were your own."

Oh, how he fought against the smile that was curving his lips! "I am afraid I have lost count," he said. Then he sighed. "Poor Mama! It is as well that she can have no notion of what her children get up to when they are from home."

She chuckled, longing with all her heart to prolong this interlude with her twin, for he seemed suddenly so much more like the brother she knew. "For that matter, it is as well that she can have no notion of how often we find ourselves saying, 'Poor Mama!' about one thing or another."

A reluctant laugh greeted this sally. Again, Daerus sighed and the wistful sorrow in his eyes touched her to the heart. "Indeed," he agreed. "I wish ... well, never mind. I am sorry, Dia." And then, so slowly that she knew he was fighting against it, the eyes that held hers lost all their warmth and laughter until, finally, her beloved twin was once more hidden from her sight.

Affecting not to notice the change and deliberately misunderstanding him, she said cheerfully, "And so you should be, but never mind. Tell me what has occurred to send you barreling into my chambers in such a bang. Has the Emperor dropped down dead? Is the palace on fire? What's afoot?"

He shook his head, and Dia saw with some misgiving that the evil leer was back. "Nothing so earth-shattering, my dear." Then he turned his head to speak over his shoulder. "Come in, your Highness."

Dia frowned as her brother opened the door further to admit Prince Maermat. _What_ were they about? The prince strolled into the center of the room, his gaze frankly sensual. Defiantly, she straightened as her temper heated. How dared they ... !

"I shall myself attend to the meddler Aerandos," Daerus was saying to Prince Maermat.

Dia saw that he fully intended to leave her alone with the prince and her eyes widened. "Daerus, have you utterly taken leave of your senses?"

He looked back at her over his shoulder. "Not at all," he said, smiling. "I did try to warn you, Dia."

And, with that, he stepped into the corridor and quietly closed the door behind him.

Prince Maermat, still smiling, began to walk toward her and she stood her ground. She did not attempt to deny to herself that she was very much afraid, but she preferred to focus upon the fact that she was also growing angrier by the minute. Clearly, she had underestimated the depths to which her foes would stoop in order to assure her cooperation. Daerus had warned her that she would be given no choice in the matter, but it had never occurred to her that the Prince might try to force himself upon her. No doubt they were trying to frighten her into capitulation.

"What are you about, your Highness," she asked primly, and with a degree of formality that she privately acknowledged was rather ridiculous under the circumstances.

The Prince stopped. "I am securing my own," he replied, his smile widening as if he agreed.

"Securing your own?"

The smug smile he wore never wavered. "Your brother has already explained matters to you, my lady. You will be _mine_ whether you would or no." He seemed very sure of himself.

"And is this your notion of persuasion, then?" she asked suddenly scornful. "I am Shae. You are Ormaer. Do you truly think I would stoop to wed one with so little notion of the honor of his House?"

At that, Prince Maermat frankly laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "What do you think I care for that?" he asked her. "The chosen of Dark Septha have no need to concern themselves with petty notions of honor." Once again, he started toward her. "Come, my lady, let us have done with this missishness. If you will but cooperate, you may find that you enjoy the experience prodigiously."

Dia's flesh crawled at the thought. Indeed, somehow, she still could not bring herself to believe that Maermat truly intended to ravish her. "And if I refuse?" she demanded with a prideful tilt to her chin and a considering expression in her eyes.

He eyed her up and down in something very like contempt. "It will be no particular trouble for me to take you," he told her. "I'd had some hope that, in this situation, you might bow to the inevitable and make this a pleasant interlude for us both."

"I had rather by far that you killed me, sir," she said, her voice flat with hostility. "You may very well overpower me, but I will never submit to you and yours."

"Ah, no, I cannot." he told her. "There are rules, you know. You may choose to kill yourself when, once I have done with you, you discover yourself to be with child," he added indifferently, closing the distance between them. "Or you may choose to go on living, to give birth to the ultimate instrument of Chaos. It really does not matter, my lady. Whatever you choose, the end will be the same and Great Septha will finally regain his place in this world." He paused for a moment, his eyes travelling over her face in such a way that, for a moment, she could almost have believed this man genuinely might have cared for her. "I will confess, though, that I rather think I should like to father a child of you, my lovely Dia," he told her gently.

That insolently spoken familiarity was completely lost on Dia. As the sense of his words penetrated her shock and anger, she began to see that Maermat had nothing to lose in this pass. And now, as she realized that bedding her was not a means to an end, but the end itself, she began to be truly afraid.

The Prince lifted a hand to caress her cheek but Dia struck it away angrily. His eyes hardened, but the smile he wore did not falter, and those eyes continued to hold hers as he unexpectedly reached out to rip the towel away from her clutching hands as if he would strip her of the honorable pretensions to which she had clung. Then he grasped her shoulders and drew her resisting body against his with a jerk, to caress her neck with cold lips. Dia felt certain that her soul froze at the touch of his mouth on her skin. She instinctively cringed away from him and, aware that he was done with talking, she gave a tremendous heave to free herself.

There she stood, naked, and no longer tall and proud as a daughter of Shae but crouched into a fighting posture that dared him to try his might against her. He laughed lightly. "And still you resist me, foolish Dia? Observe how useless such defiance is." She felt him release a spell, felt the strength slowly draining from her limbs and felt her fear as quickly escalating to panic. Struggling now against his magic as well as the arms that encircled her once more, she silently screamed, _Caelon!_

It was only because she continued her seemingly hopeless struggle against his Secrets that she gained a reprieve when, quite by accident, her knee violently connected with her assailant's crotch. Distracted by pain, Prince Maermat's spell dissolved in his curses and Dia, once more in command of her body, wrenched herself free of his embrace. But before she could make any further move, Prince Maermat, still snarling incoherently in pain, fetched her a stunning backhanded slap that sent her hurtling halfway across the room to crash into the table that held her daggers.

Dia's cheek throbbed where he had hit her and her vision was blurred as a result of rapping her head on the furniture. Frantically, struggling to retain consciousness, she made a desperate grab for the table. It mattered not to her in that moment whether she used them on herself or her attacker, but she had to get to her daggers. She _could_ not black out now! _Caelon!_ she called again, putting all the fervent urgency she felt into that silent shout.

Each of her hands closed on the hilts of her daggers and, sensing that Maermat was coming up behind her, she tried to spin to face him. As quick as she was, she was not quite quick enough. As she was in the act of turning, he grasped her left wrist and levered her arm up so that her fist was raised toward the ceiling. She struggled to get free of his grip for a moment but, realizing that leverage was working against her, she slashed out with her other hand instead and Maermat, in the act of dodging her blade, loosed the wrist he held. Then, she felt his mind at work again, felt the peculiar inrushing sense of gathering strength and knew that he was preparing to release his spell once more. She could not fight him if he were going to use Dark Secrets to rob her limbs of the will to resist. Her arm whipped out like a bolt of lightening as she sent one of her daggers spinning through the air, directly toward the Imperial heir's head.

With a startled shout, Maermat dodged. The knife whistled past his ear but she had at least distracted him, and thankfully felt his spell dissipate. She would have to stay on the offensive, she realized, keeping him off balance so that he would not have the focus he would need in order to use magic against her. She did not have leisure to attend either the fluttering in her belly or her thundering heartbeat, and was aware of nothing but her own desperate determination. She also saw with considerable misgiving that her resistance, her willingness to resort to violence and his own extreme confidence in his ability to overcome that resistance were combining with the spectacle of her nudity to enflame him even more. He was thinking very loudly. Vile images of his imagined eventual conquest flickered across her mind, both revolting and terrifying her, and _where was Caelon?_

Meanwhile, she saw that she now had only one dagger, while the other was stuck in the wall behind the Prince. Before it occurred to him to turn and arm himself with it, she rushed him, the dagger in her had flashing dangerously. For a moment, it seemed she saw an opening but Maermat was not to be bested so easily. He danced clear, sidestepping her attack and slipping around her to the other side of the room.

But it seemed he had seen his own dilemma: he would have to stay far enough out of reach to avoid her blades, yet not so far as to give her room for a clean cast. She could not tell if Daerus had, indeed, warned him of her skill with knife and javelin, or if the sound of her dagger whistling past his head had given him pause. Whatever he might have been thinking, his awareness of his own physical danger now that she was armed served the purpose of giving him other things to ponder than the Dark Secrets he would use against her.

Before she could get to the dagger protruding from the wall, Maermat rushed her, as aware as she that she was twice as dangerous armed with two daggers than she was with but one. She danced back, her blade flickering while with her other hand, she groped behind her in search of a dagger hilt. It was awkward, as well, for she could not look away from his attempts to grasp the hand that wielded the knife. Dia began to wonder despairingly just how long she would be able to keep this up.

And then, just as his hand closed on her wrist, a very welcome voice barked out, "Maermat!" Caelon of Aerandos stood in the doorway, his aura brilliant, his expression thunderous.

Starting with surprise, the Prince released her and backed away. Rendered almost faint with relief, Dia sagged back against the wall, letting her arms fall to her sides, although her hand still convulsively clutched her dagger. As reaction set in and she began to tremble violently, she slowly slid down the wall to the floor, hugging her knees into her chest.

Caelon had been striding down the halls of the imperial palace, when he realized that he was being watched. That cold menace was back, oozing waves of hatred that were laced with a peculiar sort of puzzlement, as if there was something about Caelon that it could not understand. Much more to the point from Caelon's perspective, there were human watchers awaiting him in the shadows ahead. Very well, then. Caelon gave no outward sign as he passed them, reaching surreptitiously for the short-bladed sword he now wore concealed among his clothes.

He had just walked past yet another darkly shadowed embrasure when they leapt at him in the same instant that he heard Lady Dia call him, her voice in his mind so full of furious and desperate terror that he felt his guts congeal with fear. What in Chaos was happening?

Caelon's sense of self-preservation was well-honed in any event but the added impetus of her ladyship's cry lent strength and speed to his arm. Even as he spun to face his attackers, ducking under the sword stroke he felt more than saw, he ripped out his sword and plunged it straight into one fellow's chest. Before he could recover from the thrust, another sword whistled toward him out of the darkness. Cursing the shadows of the hallway, he pulled his shoulder back and the blow, which would have caught him across the chest, slashed instead across his arm. It was not a serious wound; he hardly felt it and at least it was not his sword arm.

But, if the lighting was causing Caelon some trouble, it was not helping his attackers, either, he realized as he ducked into the shadows from which the fellows had just emerged. He had an urge to even the odds; slowly and silently, he pulled his dagger.

"Chaos and confustication!" exclaimed a rough sounding voice. "He's gorn and disappear't!"

"He has done nothing of the sort," snapped another voice, a voice with which Caelon was wholly familiar. "He has not gone far. Find him!" Caelon discarded his initial assumption that this attack had to do with his father's position on the General Staff. But why would Daerus of Shae make an attempt on his life?

 _Caelon!_ As if in answer to that question, Lady Dia's voice echoed in the vaults of his mind once more, lending even more urgency to his taut nerves. The outrage that had been in her voice before was gone now, leaving only despair and a terrible fear.

He could not have known what was happening, but the thought that she was somehow in danger and needed him, and that her brother was apparently determined to keep him from coming to her aid, roused in him an outrage of his own. As his anger grew, his vision cleared and he found suddenly that the darkness had been swept aside, seemingly by his own fury. He loosed the dagger in his hand.

Lord Daerus' hireling doubled over with a grunt, clutching the dagger that protruded from his lower chest. Coughing blood, he crumpled and fell.

But Caelon had forgotten him almost as soon as he had thrown his dagger. Now, he faced Daerus of Shae. Looking into the boy's cold grey eyes, Caelon thought again of the young man's obvious intent to keep him from helping my lady. The thought brought with it another wave of unmitigated rage.

Lord Daerus screamed with a gut-wrenching agony and stumbled away from him. He screamed again and fled back into the shadows and down the hall . Caelon did not pause to wonder why. Without any further waste of time, he turned and sprinted the short distance to my lady's chambers.

The scene that had met his eyes had required no explanation and he was engulfed in a fury that owed something of its power to the fearful knowledge that he had almost been too late. When he had promised Lady Dia that he would help her, would champion her cause, he'd had no notion of the depths to which her enemies would sink to ensnare her as they had her brother. Now, more than ever, Caelon renewed a private resolve. Whatever else happened, he _would_ not fail her.

"I think you forget yourself, sir," he now said icily.

Prince Maermat, who had automatically straightened to attention when Lord Caelon had snapped out his name so commandingly (for, after all, his lordship had spoken to the Emperor's heir in much the same way he would have spoken to the rawest recruit to the Grand Duke Saeros' army), cast his speculative gaze at Lord Caelon consideringly.

"Do not," Caelon advised him quietly, still seething.

"My lord?" asked Prince Maermat.

"Do not seek to convince me that you are an invited guest in my lady's chambers," Caelon readily supplied. He then opened the door behind him a little wider, indicating with that gesture that his Highness should take himself off.

In a voice he hardly recognized, so harsh and trembling with emotion, Lady Dia endorsed that silent suggestion. "Get out!" she said emphatically.

The Prince once more looked from one of them to the other. Then, appearing neither embarrassed nor remorseful, he shrugged and strolled toward the door. Before he reached it, however, he paused and turned back to Dia. "Very well, my lady," he said to her, supreme arrogance in every line of his body, "I am willing to allow you this small victory. Do you use the time to consider the matter well and remember, for I _will_ not be denied!"

Caelon swung the door closed directly into the imperial heir's face.

He stared at that closed door for several moments, frowning thoughtfully. It would seem he had been quite right, both in believing that wedding her to Maermat was an end in itself and in cautioning Lady Dia about the dangers of the game she played. Being right was little consolation in that moment, he found. Why would it be so crucial for Dia to take Maermat to husband that they would try to ravish her into it? For his part, he would have thought such a course of action to be fraught with all sorts of dangers for them, not the least of which was his very strong conviction that he would not wish to take any woman to wife who had good reason to plot to murder him in his sleep.

Setting such speculations aside, he turned back to Dia and found her still seated in a trembling little ball on the floor, staring at him in shock. "Where is Daerus?" she asked him tonelessly.

"I could not say," he replied, keeping his counsel. She did not need to hear of how her brother had tried to aid her ravisher. "As well you were planning to quit this place as soon as your eyes open, my lady. If he will stoop to this, there is no knowing what Maermat will be trying next."

Caelon was trying very hard to behave normally, but he was contending with such a confused tidal wave of emotions that he found himself pacing the floor to walk them off. He wanted Prince Maermat to return so that he could thrash the fellow soundly. He wanted to throttle Lord Daerus, as well, for doing nothing to help his sister and everything to injure her. He wanted to comfort Lady Dia, to somehow wipe the shock and terror out of her eyes. He hoped he never saw such an expression in a woman's eyes again as long as he lived. And, suddenly, without warning, he felt an overwhelming wave of desire rise in him, almost drowning all else, and filling him with self-disgust. It caused him to bend and scoop up her towel, tossing it at her and snapping irritably, "For the love of Chaos, ma'am, cover yourself!"

He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. Lady Dia's stricken gaze flew to his for an instant. Judging from her expression, he might just as well have struck her. Then she dropped her eyes and flushed scarlet as she tried to get the towel around her body with violently trembling hands.

Cursing himself fluently, Caelon strode into her bedchamber to snatch a blanket from the bed. He then knelt beside her and wrapped her in the blanket, saying gently, "I am sorry, my lady. After what you have just been through, I should not speak to you so."

She drew a shuddering breath, and the last vestiges of anger and defiance faded from her face as tears streamed down her cheeks. Then, as if his words had caused a dam to burst, she began to cry -- great, heaving, wracking sobs that tore themselves from her throat so painfully that his own throat closed in sympathy. He enfolded her in a tender embrace and let her weep into his chest, easily ignoring the inappropriate clamoring of his body in his compassion for her ordeal.

Finally, her sobs quieted and she slumped, exhausted but trusting, against his shoulder. He picked her up and carried her into her bedchamber to lay her upon the bed. Kneeling by the bed to bring his head level with hers, he asked, "Are you hurt, my lady?"

Mutely, she shook her head, still apparently unable to bring herself to look at him. He traced the bruise forming on her cheek with a gentle finger, wondering absently if she would tell him if she _were_ hurt. He knew he should go; she was neither ill nor injured, so his presence was not really needed. Yet he felt a curious reluctance to leave her, telling himself without conviction that she had sustained a severe shock and needed his support until she had recovered. More than anything, he was aware of an irresistible need to look into her eyes, to see that the shame and pain he had seen earlier were gone.

"Come, Dia," he said to her, very softly, "look at me."

For another long moment, she kept her eyes lowered, seeming to struggle with herself. Then, finally, she slowly raised them to gaze at him. The shadow of hurt was still there and Caelon knew suddenly that it would be a very long time indeed before she fully recovered. "It's over, Dia," he told her, hardly knowing what he said. "You are safe now."

She continued to stare at him gravely before one hand timidly emerged from the blankets wrapped around her to grip his. Her eyes widened. Caelon felt it, too; a warm, comforting light that seemed to come from nowhere to close around the two of them as if it would sheathe them both in a protective cocoon of peace. Again, he was swamped by a wave of passion that he considered wholly inappropriate. He fought against it, unwilling to betray the absolute trust he saw in her gaze, but it was much stronger this time.

Abruptly, he became aware that she was in his mind once more, with an immediacy and intimacy that they had not before experienced in their mental joinings, and that mental touch was his undoing. "Dia . . . ," he heard himself say, experiencing a reluctance which she did not seem to share. Now, her eyes glowed joyously, tenderly, relieved.

Then, another voice spoke to him, a voice he did not recognize, that was deep and resonant and seemed to carry all the echoes of all the endless corridors of eternity. _Surrender, Caelon,_ it said. _Surrender to the light._

He had no very clear recollection of how it came about, but the next thing he knew, he was naked in her bed and everywhere his skin touched hers burned with holy fire. There was no drawing back nor hesitation on her part and, when his body joined with hers, it felt so profoundly right that it seemed to Caelon as if he had somehow become a part of that very first perfect moment of creation so long lost in the misty realms of antiquity. Their minds still linked, he experienced her pleasure as well as his own, causing this encounter to reach a zenith of intensity such as he had never known, and his release, when it came, was so total and complete that he felt he had poured his entire soul into her body to do with what she would.

Finally, exhausted, he slept.


End file.
